ARES, BLUE NIGHTS, SUNSHINE, & SKADHI: An Anthology of Stories
by Spartan 501
Summary: In 2525, the Covenant attacked Humanity in an unprovoked assault, forcing a civilization embroiled in a bloody civil war to turn their attention desperately outward and face the new threat. Collected here are stories from that conflict, told through journals, letters, documents, and short stories. They contextualize the dark depths Humanity sunk to defend itself. XPost HF Wiki.
1. Chapter 1

_**Griffin Standoff's Journal**_

**2540**

I MENTIONED YESTERDAY THAT WHEN I ENTERED THE BARRACKS I FOUND I'D BEEN TRANSFERRED, BUT TODAY I FOUND OUT THE REAL DETAILS. AND I HAVE TO SAY, IT DOESN'T LOOK GOOD. I'M REALLY STARTING TO REGRET SPENDING TIME WORKING ON EXPERIMENTAL BIOCHEM AT UNIVERSITY, AND AM SORELY REGRETTING MY LAST PROMOTION. ONI'S ENROLLED ME INTO SOME TOP SECRET PROJECT OF THEIRS, ARES, AND I'VE BEEN GETTING THE WHOLE BRIEFING. LOOKS LIKE THINGS WITH COVENANT ARE EVEN WORSE THAN WE'VE BEEN TOLD, AND, PREDICTABLY, THAT MEANS ONI'S LOOKING FOR A MAGIC BULLET. APPARENTLY, A LOT OF BRASS THINK THAT BULLET IS THE SPARTANS––EXCUSE, ME, THE SIERRAS. THEY'VE APPROVED ANOTHER PROJECT, AND GUESS WHO THEY PICKED TO LEAD IT. THEY SAY THESE SPARTANS ARE OUR LAST, BEST HOPE, AND WHILE I DOUBT IT'S TRUE, I KNOW I'M NEEDED. I'VE AGREED, AND THEY'RE TRANSFERRING ME TO THE PROWLER _DESCENT INTO DARKNESS_ TO SEARCH OUT THE CANDIDATES. I HAVEN'T BEEN TOLD WHO THEY ARE, BUT I'VE GOT TOP SECURITY CLEARANCE NOW, AND I'VE LOOKED INTO THE ORIGINAL CHARLIE ONE SIERRAS. I CAN GUESS WHATS NEXT.

WE'RE SCHEDULED TO ARRIVE AT THE FIRST PLANET ON THE FIFTH, SO THAT MEANS CRYO ISN'T NECESSARY. I'M STUCK IN A SHIP FULL OF SPOOKS FOR THE FORESEEABLE FUTURE, AND EVERYTHING SEEMS TO BE SECRET. IT'S ALREADY IRRITATING ME, BUT IF THAT'S WHAT IT TAKES TO WIN THE WAR, IT'S A SACRIFICE I'LL HAVE TO MAKE. I JUST HOPE I DON'T SCREW THIS UP.

**MARCH 2ND, 2540**

HARD TO BELIEVE OVER A MONTH HAS PASSED SINCE I STARTED THIS INFERNAL ASSIGNMENT. IF I'D KNOWN ALL THIS WOULD FOLLOW, I WOULD NEVER HAVE ACCEPTED. I'M STILL LEARNING TO USE MY NEW, VERY EXPANSIVE SET OF SECURITY CLEARANCES, AND ONI ISN'T BEING VERY FREE WITH INFORMATION, BUT I'VE LEARNED ENOUGH. THESE KIDS AREN'T GOING TO LIVE HAPPY LIVES, ANY OF THEM. I'M SETTING THEM UP FOR A LIFE OF PAIN JUST BY TALKING TO THEM. MY SUPERIORS, WHOEVER THEY ARE, TELL ME IT HAS TO BE DONE FOR OUR SURVIVAL. EVEN IF IT'S TRUE, IT'S STILL A TERRIBLE RESPONSIBILITY.

I'VE BEEN MEETING WITH CANDIDATES ALMOST ON A DAILY BASIS, TRYING TO GET TO AS MANY OF THEM AS I CAN AS QUICKLY AS POSSIBLE. THE COVENANT CONTINUE TO ENCROACH ON OUR TERRITORY, AND WE'VE ALREADY LOST SEVERAL CANDIDATES TO RAIDS AND ATTACKS. IF WE DON'T HURRY, THERE WON'T BE ANYONE LEFT FOR THE PROGRAM. WE'VE BEEN HOPSCOTCHING FROM PLANET TO PLANET, AND LUCKILY MOST OF THE CANDIDATES HAVE BEEN CLUSTERED IN NEARBY SYSTEMS.

THE COVENANT IS ADVANCING RAPIDLY THROUGH THIS SECTOR, AND THERE AREN'T ENOUGH FORCES HERE TO DEFEND IT. WE'VE ALREADY HAD TO DODGE AROUND COVENANT PATROLS, AND WE'VE HAD SOME CLOSE CALLS ON THE SURFACE AS WELL. ONI SAYS WE CAN'T TAKE ANY CANDIDATES WITH US RIGHT NOW, BUT I'VE MADE IT VERY CLEAR TO THE ONBOARD INTELLIGENCE PERSONNEL THAT IF ANY OF THE CANDIDATES ARE IN DANGER, WE'LL BE EXTRACTING THEM IMMEDIATELY. I'M NOT LETTING THE COVENANT GET TO ONE OF OUR KIDS WHEN WE CAN SAVE THEM JUST AS EASILY.

**APRIL 3RD, 2540**

TODAY WE HAD OUR CLOSEST RUN IN YET WITH THE COVENANT. WE WERE INTERVIEWING ONE OF THE CANDIDATES –– [S-347], JENNIFER (I JUST CAN'T BRING MYSELF TO CALL THEM "TEST SUBJECTS" –– HALSEY MUST HAVE BEEN DEAD INSIDE TO DO THAT AND I'M NOT THAT FAR GONE YET) –– WHEN THE ALIENS LAUNCHED A SURPRISE ATTACK. TWO CRUISERS SLIPPED IN SYSTEM STRAIGHT UNDER THE ORBITAL DEFENSES AND IMMEDIATELY LAUNCHED TROOPS. PURE PANIC ENGULFED THE ENTIRE CITY. THEY LED THEIR ATTACK WITH BANSHEES, BUT IT WASN'T LONG BEFORE THEIR DROPSHIPS ENTERED THE MIX. WE HAD TO GRAB [S-347] THEN AND THERE, STRAIGHT OUT OF HOMEROOM––HER PARENTS ARE LOCAL GOVERNMENT BIG BIG––SHOTS, SO WE CLAIMED WE WERE MILITARY AND GOT MANAGED TO GET AWAY WITH IT. I CHECKED THE LIST, AND HER PARENTS MADE IT OUT ALIVE –– BUT THE REST OF THE CLASS DIDN'T, SO THE PARENTS WILL LIKELY BELIEVE SHE WAS KILLED WITH THE REST. I FEEL AWFUL ABOUT IT, BUT FROM WHAT I'VE READ OF THE CHARLIES ONES, WE MAY ACTUALLY BE SPARING THEM SOME PAIN. FLASH CLONE DECAY ISN'T PRETTY.

[S-347] IS STILL IN SHOCK, SO WE'VE GOT HER SEDATED AND WILL LIKELY PLACE HER IN CRYO FOR THE DURATION OF THE TRIP. SHE WAS A REAL FIRECRACKER WHEN I INTERVIEWED HER AT THE SCHOOL, WITH A BIT OF A MOUTH AND A BIG EGO FOR A SIX YEAR OLD. MONEY BREEDS IT, APPARENTLY. WHO KNOWS IF SHE'LL STILL HAVE IT WHEN SHE WAKES UP, BUT AT LEAST SHE'S MOTIVATED NOW. IT'S THE ONLY GOOD THING I'VE BEEN ABLE TO FIND IN THIS WHOLE DAMN AFFAIR. MY ACTIONS ARE IN DIRECT CONTRADICTION OF ONI'S ORDERS, BUT I DON'T THINK THE SPOOKS WILL TOUCH ME, AND EVEN IF THEY DO, I DON'T CARE. I SAVED A LIFE TODAY, AND THAT'S ALL THAT MATTERS. IT FEELS GOOD TO HAVE SOMETHING POSITIVE AGAINST THE UNRELENTING NEGATIVE OF THIS POSTING.

**APRIL 23RD, 2540**

CANDIDATE EXAMINATIONS CONTINUE AT BREAKNECK SPEED, AND I ABSOLUTELY HATE TO SAY IT, BUT I THINK I'M GETTING USED TO IT HERE. WE'VE HAD TO EXTRACT ANOTHER CANDIDATE SINCE [S-347], AND MY SUPERIORS ARE PISSED, BUT SOME TOP SHOT BY THE NAME OF NOVEMBER ROMEO HAS KEPT THEM AT BAY. I DON'T KNOW WHO HE IS, BUT HE'S GOT TO HAVE SOME CLOUT TO PULL THIS OFF. I'M STARTING TO GRASP THE BASICS OF THIS POLITICAL STUFF, BUT IT'S A BIG TRANSITION FOR A GROUND POUNDER LIKE ME. IT'S GOING TO TAKE A LONG TIME. HOPEFULLY I CAN KEEP SOME ALLIES LIKE HIM TO HELP MAKE UP FOR MY SHORTCOMINGS.

I INTERVIEWED ANOTHER CANDIDATE TODAY, AND IT JUST SO HAPPENED TO BE HIS BIRTHDAY. IT WAS A STRANGE AND FRIGHTENING DISCONNECTION; HE WAS IN THE MIDST OF A PARTY (ALBEIT A SOMEWHAT STRUGGLING ONE –– HIS PARENTS ARE NOT THE MOST FORTUNATE) AND THERE I WAS, PLOTTING TO TAKE HIM AWAY. AS IF I DIDN'T FEEL TERRIBLE ENOUGH. LOGISTICALLY, IT WAS AN ANNOYING INTERRUPTION, PUTTING US BEHIND SCHEDULE, BUT THAT WAS HARDLY MY BIGGEST CONCERN. I WISH I'D NEVER AGREED TO THIS DAMN JOB.

THE CANDIDATE I TALKED TO, HOWEVER, WAS INTERESTING. FROM THE MOMENT I MET HIM (NOT WHEN I SAW HIM BLOWING OUT HIS CANDLES, BUT WHEN I ACTUALLY MANAGED TO SPEAK WITH HIM), HE SEEMED…DIFFERENT. THERE WAS SOMETHING ABOUT HIM I COULD JUST SENSE. HE'S GOING TO BE GOOD. THERE ARE SOME DEFINITE PHYSICAL TEST THAT SHOWED HE HAS STRONG POTENTIAL –– HE'S SMART, CREATIVE, AND HAS DEXTERITY SCORES THAT ARE NEARLY OFF THE CHARTS –– BUT THERE'S MORE. HE SEEMS INNATELY DIFFERENT. I'VE NOTICED THIS BEFORE, IN SOME OF THE OTHER CANDIDATES, BUT IT WAS ESPECIALLY CLEAR IN HIM. I'VE SENT A QUERY TO ONI ABOUT HIM, EVEN THOUGH I'M NOT EXACTLY SURE WHAT'S SO SPECIAL ABOUT HIM. HOPEFULLY I WON'T SOUND LIKE A CRAZY PERSON, ASKING ABOUT A KID FOR NO REASON AT ALL.

**MAY 14TH, 2540**

I KEEP FINDING OUT MORE DETAILS ABOUT THIS PROJECT, AND THE MORE I FIND OUT, THE LESS I LIKE IT. THAT SAME NOVEMBER ROMEO HAS BEEN SLOWLY UPDATING ME WITH INFORMATION RELATIVE TO THE PROGRAM, THOUGH I'M FORCED TO FILL IN A LOT OF THE BLANKS THROUGH MY OWN SEARCHES IN MY SPARE TIME (WHAT LITTLE I HAVE OF IT, ANYWAY). THE COVENANT, OF COURSE, CONTINUE THEIR ATTACKS; WHAT WAS LEFT OF THE AUGUSTUS SYSTEM AFTER THEIR ASSAULT LAST APRIL IS NOW A BURNING BALL OF GLASS. WE LOST THREE CANDIDATES IN THAT LAST RAID, AND ANOTHER ONE IS MISSING. I DOUBT WE'LL HAVE MORE THAN FIFTY CANDIDATES FOR THE ENTIRE PROGRAM, AT THIS RATE. I GUESS WE'LL HAVE TO MAKE DO WITH WHAT WE HAVE LEFT.

IN THE MEANTIME, I'M INTERVIEWING CANDIDATES AS FAST AS I CAN. THE INTERVIEWS ARE NOTHING MORE THAN A FORMALITY NOW –– WE'RE TAKING EVERYONE WE CAN GET, EVEN THOSE WHO LIKELY CAN'T CUT IT –– BUT ONI INSISTS. MORE OF THEIR DAMN BUREAUCRATIC BULLSHIT. AS IF THIS WHOLE THING WASN'T ALREADY BAD ENOUGH. AT LEAST THE CANDIDATE SELECTION PROCESS IS ALMOST OVER. MAYBE I'LL FEEL BETTER THEN. IT'S A SLIM HOPE, BUT I NEED SOMETHING TO HOLD ONTO.

ON AN UNRELATED NOTE, I WAS INTERVIEWING ANOTHER CANDIDATE TODAY AND HAD THE SAME ODD EXPERIENCE I HAD WITH [S––338]. HER TAG NUMBERS WERE CONFUSING –– OFFICIAL DOCUMENTS REFERRED TO HER AS BOTH 343 AND 358, AND EVEN MIXED UP HER GENDER A FEW TIMES –– BUT I COULD SENSE SOMETHING ABOUT HER, JUST LIKE THE OTHER. THERE'S SOMETHING DIFFERENT, SOMETHING SPECIAL, THAT I CAN'T QUITE PUT MY FINGER ON. HER FAMILY IS SLOWLY FRAGMENTING, SO WE MAY ACTUALLY BE DOING HER A FAVOR BY GIVING HER A WAY OUT, BUT SOMEHOW, ALL I CAN THINK ABOUT WHEN I'M REVIEWING HER IS THAT ODD FEELING (AND I'M ALSO ADMITTEDLY A LITTLE DISTRACTED BY HER APPARENT LOVE OF FIRE––SHE HAD TWO SEPARATE LIGHTERS OUT WHEN I VISITED –– MAYBE SHE'LL TAKE A LIKING TO THE M7057). LIKE THE OTHER, SHE'S GOT ALL THE PHYSICAL INDICATORS OF STRONG POTENTIAL, BUT I'M SURE I'M SENSING SOMETHING DIFFERENT. ONI HAS YET TO REPLY TO MY QUERY, SO I'M EAGERLY AWAITING THEIR RESPONSE.

**MAY 27TH, 2540**

TODAY I GAVE THE ORDER. THE "RECRUITMENT" AGENTS HAVE BEEN DISPATCHED, AND THEY'RE DUE BACK HERE IN A FEW WEEKS. IT'S SO ODD, SO SURREAL, EVEN NOW. I CAN'T GET PAST HOW EASY IT WAS, HOW NATURAL THE WHOLE AFFAIR FELT. ONE ORDER AND DOZENS OF KIDS ARE TAKEN FROM THEIR PARENTS, DOZENS OF OTHERS ABDUCTED FROM ORPHANAGES. IT'S FRIGHTENING AND DISTURBING AT THE SAME TIME. I ALWAYS HEARD THE STORIES ABOUT ONI'S SHADOW OPS, BUT NEVER REALLY BELIEVED THEM. EVERYTHING AFTER THIS WILL BE SEEN IN A DIFFERENT LIGHT FOR ME.

I ALSO MET THE CANDIDATE'S PRIMARY INSTRUCTOR, A MAN BY THE NAME OF LASZLO. ITS OBVIOUS TO ME THAT HE'S A SIERRA –– OFFICIAL DOCUMENTS CONSISTENTLY REFER TO HIM AS LIMA-108, AND HE'S GOT AN AURA OF DEADLINESS ABOUT HIM –– BUT I'M STILL AT A LOSS FOR WHERE HE CAME FROM. HE SEEMS TOO OLD TO BE A THREE OR A CHARLIE TWO, BUT I'VE STUDIED THE RANKS OF THE ACTIVE CHARLIE ONES AND HAVEN'T FOUND A TRACE OF HIM. I'M STILL LEARNING TO USE MY NEW CLEARANCES, SO MAYBE I'LL MAKE PROGRESS YET. AT ANY RATE, HE SEEMS KNOWLEDGEABLE AND I BELIEVE HE'LL BE AN EXCELLENT TEACHER. FROM OUR BRIEF CONVERSATION, HE SEEMS LIKE A GOOD SOLDIER. MAYBE I'VE FINALLY GOT AN ALLY TO RELY ON.

ONI HAS REBUFFED MY QUERY, SO IT LOOKS LIKE I'M GOING HAVE TO DO THE RESEARCH MYSELF. I'VE GOT PLENTY OF DOWN TIME TO ANALYZE THE CANDIDATES GENETIC PRINTS, BUT I'M NOT EVEN SURE WHAT I'M LOOKING FOR. HOPEFULLY INSPIRATION WILL STRIKE. IF NOT, PERHAPS THIS LASZLO FELLOW WILL BE ABLE TO HELP ME. IF HE'S CLOAKED IN SECRECY ENOUGH THAT I'M HAVING TROUBLE FINDING OUT HIS ORIGINS, HE SHOULD BE AT LEAST PASSINGLY FAMILIAR WITH THESE KINDS OF PROBLEMS. HE MAY HAVE SOME CONTACTS I CAN BORROW. I HAVE A FEELING THIS JOB WON'T BE PLEASANT IN THE SLIGHTEST.

**JULY 22ND, 2540**

THE CANDIDATES ARE DUE IN IN A FEW DAYS, AND THE WHOLE COMPLEX IS IN A FERMENT. I DIDN'T REALIZE WE HAD SO MANY PERSONNEL. IT FEELS LIKE EVERYONE'S IN A RUSH TO GET THINGS READY; SO MUCH FOR PLANNING AHEAD. THE GUILT FROM THE ABDUCTION IS STILL SINKING IN, AND I'M HAVING A HARD TIME SLEEPING. THERE'S NOTHING TO DISTRACT ME, AND EVERY PREPARATION WE MAKE IS AN UNWELCOME REMINDER OF THE ABDUCTION AND FLASH CLONES. HOPEFULLY THE ARRIVAL OF THE TRAINEES WILL GIVE ME SOMETHING ELSE TO FOCUS ON.

I'VE BEEN TRYING TO THINK UP A WAY TO APPROACH LASZLO AND ASK ABOUT HIS ORIGINS, BUT I'M STILL WONDERING WHICH THINGS ARE TABOO AND WHICH AREN'T. I DON'T THINK I'M USUALLY THE ONE TO WORRY ABOUT OFFENDING PEOPLE, BUT HE SEEMS LIKE A GOOD SOLDIER AND, QUITE FRANKLY, I DON'T THINK PISSING HIM OFF WILL HELP ME MUCH. I'VE ALREADY GOT ONI STONEWALLING ME, AND ALIENATING HIM SOUNDS LIKE A BAD IDEA.

SPEAKING OF BEING STONEWALLED, ONI HAS FOLLOWED UP ON THEIR REBUFF. APPARENTLY ONE OF THEIR WATCHDOG PROGRAMS CAUGHT ME SNOOPING AROUND THE GENETIC PROFILES OF OUR CANDIDATES, AND SOME SPOOK CONNECTED THE DOTS. THEY SENT A CEASE AND DESIST MESSAGE EXPLICITLY ORDERING ME TO DISCONTINUE MY LITTLE INVESTIGATION. NOT THAT I INTEND TO OBEY IT (WHAT ARE THEY GOING TO DO, SEND ME TO THE FRONT?), BUT I FOUND IT INSIGHTFUL. THEY DIDN'T SEEM TO CARE WHEN I WAS POKING AROUND THEIR PREDISPOSED GENETIC TRAITS OR WHEN I WAS CHECKING TO SEE WHICH DISEASES THEY'RE MOST LIKELY TO ACQUIRE, BUT I IMMEDIATELY GOT THEIR ATTENTION WHEN I OPENED THE LOG OF THEIR GENETIC MATCH TO THE ORIGINAL CLASS. THAT'S TOO MUCH OF A COINCIDENCE. AND THAT'S INFORMATION RIGHT THERE.

**JULY 29TH, 2540**

SUCCESS…IF YOU CAN CALL IT THAT. I FINALLY KNOW WHAT ONI WAS HIDING, AND IT'S ILLUMINATING. THE KEY TO THE DIFFERENCE IN [S-343] AND [S-338] IS IN THEIR MATCH TO THE ORIGINAL CHARLIE ONES –– AND THE LACK OF A MATCH IN THE OTHERS. IT SEEMS OBVIOUS, IN RETROSPECT, AND I CAN'T BELIEVE I DIDN'T CATCH IT UNTIL NOW. IT'S NOT THAT THE TWO OF THEM DON'T MATCH –– IT'S THAT THEY'RE THE ONLY ONES THAT _DO_. THE GENETIC MATCHES –– THE PERCENT OF GENES THAT MATCH THE ORIGINAL GENETIC GUIDELINES SET BY HALSEY –– ARE DRASTICALLY OUT OF SYNC. ONLY 10% ARE CLOSE TO THE ORIGINAL GENETIC STOCK, AND ONLY [S-338] AND [S-343] ARE REALLY EQUAL. 42% POSSESS 75% OR LOWER OF THE NEEDED GENE SEQUENCES. AND THE REMAINING 48% ARE JUST RANDOM KIDS THROWN IN BY SECTION III!

I'M STILL LEARNING ABOUT THE AUGMENTATION PROCEDURES, WHICH WILL LIKELY BE FROM THE OLDER SET BECAUSE OF FUNDING (OR LACK THEREOF), BUT I KNOW ENOUGH. ONI ISN'T JUST SKIMPING ON SOME LITTLE DETAIL; THIS IS BIG. WITH THOSE KINDS OF SCORES, WE'RE GOING TO END UP LOSING SCORES OF TRAINEES IN AUGMENTATION, AND FIELD SUB––PAR SPARTANS AMONG THOSE WHO SURVIVE. THE ORIGINAL CHARLIE ONES SUSTAINED 56% LOSSES, WITH THE CORRECT GENETIC CODE. I THOUGHT I KNEW ALL THE TERRIBLE THINGS THERE WERE TO KNOW ABOUT THIS PROGRAM. I GUESS I WAS WRONG.

THIS IS TOO MUCH TO KEEP TO MYSELF, BUT I DON'T KNOW WHERE TO TURN. THE DI HERE, DEAN JACKSON, IS A GOOD MARINE BUT DOESN'T HAVE ANY SORT OF CLOUT AT ALL. NOVEMBER ROMEO –– WHO I NOW STRONGLY SUSPECT TO BE REAR ADMIRAL NED RICH, COMMANDER OF THE COVERT OPERATIONS GROUP, WHICH IS CONTROLLING THIS PROJECT –– IS IN ALL LIKELIHOOD FULLY AWARE OF THE RISKS. HE MIGHT HAVE EVEN GREEN LIT THE PROGRAM. THERE'S ONLY ONE OPTION LEFT I CAN THINK OF. I'VE SENT AN ANONYMOUS MESSAGE TO LASZLO, INDICATING THAT HE SHOULD CHECK INTO THE GENETIC MATCHES A LITTLE MORE THOROUGHLY.

IF I CAN'T FIND AN ALLY IN HIM, THEN I DON'T KNOW WHERE I'M GOING TO TURN TO NEXT.

**AUGUST 2ND, 2540**

LASZLO RESPONDED TO MY MESSAGE TODAY. HE DIDN'T INDICATE HOW HE TRACED THE MESSAGE, BUT HE DEFINITELY HAD INTERESTING THINGS TO SAY. A LOT OF IT I SUSPECTED, BUT SOME OF IT WAS NEW. ABOVE ALL, HE STRESSED THAT, DESPITE WHATEVER REASON THEY CHOSE ME FOR, ONI STILL DON'T TRUST ME. THAT WASN'T A SURPRISE, BUT IT _WAS_ A SURPRISE TO FIND OUT NOVEMBER ROMEO –– DEFINITELY RICH, ACCORDING TO LASZLO –– IS BEHIND MOST OF THIS PROJECT. DETAILS BEYOND THAT WERE NOT DISCLOSED. HE ALSO MENTIONED THAT I MIGHT WANT TO SECURE MY DATA ENTRIES; APPARENTLY, ONI'S SPY PROGRAMS ARE OPERATING WITHIN THE PROJECT'S INFRASTRUCTURE ALREADY. I'M NOT MUCH OF A TECH AND NOT REALLY ONE FOR THIS SUBTERFUGE STUFF, BUT I'LL SEE WHAT I CAN DO.

TRAINING STARTED IN EARNEST YESTERDAY, AFTER LASZLO MET WITH THE CANDIDATES THE DAY BEFORE. I CONTEMPLATED PLAYING THE ROLE OF HALSEY AND SHOWING UP TO HELP WITH THE INTRODUCTION, BUT I DECIDED LASZLO COULD HANDLE IT. ONI CURRENTLY HAS ME DOING LOGISTICAL WORK, ORGANIZING THE PROJECT, AND I CERTAINLY HOPE IT'S JUST PLACEHOLDER TASKS TO GIVE ME SOMETHING TO DO. IF I END UP WORKING AS SOME SORT OF TASKMASTER, I'LL NEVER BE ABLE TO FORGIVE MYSELF FOR LEAVING THE FRONT LINES.

IT SEEMS ODD THAT IT'S SETTING IN SO LATE, BUT I'M STARTING TO MISS MY TROOPS. MY ISOLATION HERE IS COMPLETE; I KNOW NO ONE, AND MY ONLY CONNECTION WITH ANOTHER PERSON IS TO SOME SHADOWY SIERRA THAT I CAN'T TRACE. I FEEL WRONG COMPLAINING, BECAUSE IT'S A JUST PENANCE FOR ALL THAT I'VE DONE –– YET I CAN'T HELP IT. THE WORLD SEEMS TO HAVE DISTORTED COMPLETELY OUT OF RECOGNITION OVER THE PAST FEW MONTHS. I DON'T KNOW WHAT I DID TO GET THIS POSTING, BUT I SINCERELY, SINCERELY WISH I HADN'T DONE IT.

**AUGUST 7TH, 2540**

TRAINING IS GOING WELL, AND OVER THE PAST FEW DAYS, MY ANXIETY HAS STARTED TO WANE. I LET IT, BECAUSE I STILL HAVE A JOB TO DO, HOWEVER MUCH I DESPISE IT, AND MOPING AROUND WON'T HELP IT. TODAY A REPORT CAME IN, HOWEVER, THAT SENT ME STRAIGHT BACK. RICH'S FIELD TEAMS HAVE MADE A POINT TO OBSERVE THE CANDIDATES' REPLACEMENTS (THE FLASH CLONES ONI EMPLOYED), AND THEY SENT IN THEIR FIRST OBSERVATIONS TODAY. I'VE READ PLENTY ABOUT METABOLIC DECAY, AND I STILL REMEMBER DOING TEST LABS ON RATS AT UNIVERSITY. I THOUGHT I WAS READY, EVEN KNOWING HOW BAD IT WAS. BUT THE FLASH CLONE DECAY REALLY IS TERRIBLE. SIX REPLACEMENTS HAVE ALREADY SUCCUMBED; FIVE FROM SIMPLE DECAY, AND ANOTHER FROM AN INFECTION AGGRAVATED BY THE DRASTICALLY LOWER IMMUNE SYSTEM.

THE THING THAT DID ME IN WAS THE PICTURES. THE FIELD TEAMS TOOK GREAT CARE TO…DOCUMENT THE SCENE, AND I DIDN'T REALIZE HOW TERRIBLE THINGS REALLY WERE UNTIL I OPENED THE FIRST ONE. AFTER THAT, I COULDN'T STOP MYSELF. EACH ONE WAS WORST THAN THE LAST –– BUT I HAD TO LOOK. I WAS RESPONSIBLE. I FEEL CONSUMED WITH GUILT. IT'S ONE THING TO SHOOT AN INSURRECTIONIST WITH A GUN TO YOU, BUT KILLING CHILDREN –– AND THAT'S WITHOUT A DOUBT WHAT I'VE HELPED DO, AS SURE AS IF I SHOT THEM DEAD–– IS ANOTHER MATTER ENTIRELY. MY THOUGHTS FEEL LIKE THEY'RE UNRAVELING. I HAVE TO MAKE A CHANGE BEFORE I DRIVE MYSELF MAD.

THE WORST PART ABOUT IT ALL IS THAT THE CANDIDATES ARE REALLY STARTING TO EXCEL. IT'S BEEN BARELY OVER A WEEK, SO IT'S DIFFICULT TO COMPARE THEIR PROGRESS TO THE ORIGINAL CLASS, BUT THEY'RE ALL SHOWING EXCEPTIONAL TEAMWORK AND STRENGTH OF WILL. MOST ARE NO MORE THAN SIX OR SEVEN, BUT THEY'RE PUSHING ON WITH THE TRAINING AND WORKING EXCEPTIONALLY HARD. LASZLO IS QUITE DEFINITELY A GOOD TEACHER; HE KNOWS HOW TO MOTIVATE THESE CHILDREN BETTER THAN I COULD IN A MILLION YEARS. HE'S FOLLOWING HALSEY'S EXAMPLE FAIRLY CLOSELY, BUT HAS ALSO MADE A FEW CHANGES, WHICH SEEM TO BE WORKING OUT WELL. HE CHOSE TO SORT THE RECRUITS INTO TEAMS IMMEDIATELY, RATHER THAN TO WAIT, AND THEY HAVE ALREADY FORMED THEIR OWN FAMILIES WITHIN THEIR SQUADS. THEY STILL WORK WELL WITH THE OTHER RECRUITS, BUT IT SEEMS TO BE HELPING THEM COPE WITH ALL THE CHANGES –– THEY'RE HOLDING EACH OTHER TOGETHER, WITHOUT A DOUBT.

**AUGUST 17TH, 2540**

WE HAD OUR FIRST ESCAPE ATTEMPT TODAY, AND DAMNED IF IT WASN'T CRAFTY. ONE OF THE MORE "INDEPENDENT" SQUADS, CRIMSON (THEY'VE ALL GOT LOUD MOUTHS AND A PENCHANT FOR DISOBEYING PRACTICALLY EVERYONE), MADE AN ATTEMPT TO SLIP AWAY FROM THE COMPLEX. I NEVER REALIZED SIX YEAR OLD'S COULD BE SO INTUITIVE, BUT I'M LEARNING QUICKLY THAT THESE KIDS AREN'T YOUR AVERAGE KINDERGARTNERS (EVEN IF THEY'RE NOT QUITE UP TO HALSEY'S STANDARDS). WHILE TWO OF THEM ([S-311] AND [S-341]) STAGED A DISTRACTION IN THE MESS HALL, [S-319] HACKED OUR BASE SYSTEMS AND KEYED A FIRE ALARM. IN THE SHEER PANDEMONIUM, THE OTHER TWO, [S-303] AND [S-327], INFILTRATED THE BASE SECURITY STATION, KILLED THE CAMERA SYSTEM, AND APPARENTLY PROCURED RADIO DEVICES. THE FIVE OF THEM ALL HEADED FOR THE SURFACE VIA SERVICE TUNNELS, AND IF IT WASN'T FOR SOME QUICK THINKING ON LASZLO'S PART (CALLING IN A PELICAN SEARCH IN THE EXACT RIGHT AREA –– LIKE HE HAD EXPERIENCE SNEAKING OUT!) THEY PROBABLY WOULD'VE SLIPPED AWAY.

I GUESS I SHOULDN'T BE SURPRISED, GIVEN THE RECORD OF CLASS ONE GROUPS LIKE GRAY TEAM AND TEAM BLACK, BUT THE SHEER PLANNING OF IT ALL TOOK ME ABACK. NO ONE IN THE TEAM IS OLDER THAN SIX AND A HALF, YET THEY HAD THE WHOLE PLAN MEMORIZED, TIMED EXACTLY, AND WELL THOUGHT OUT BEFORE HAND. WHEN LASZLO CAUGHT THEM, HE CONFISCATED ALMOST A MONTHS WORTH OF DRY RATIONS, SURVIVAL GEAR, AND WEAPONS THAT THEY'D SMUGGLED OUT OF STORAGE OVER THE PAST MONTH –– ALL THE WHILE MANIPULATING THE RECORD MANIFEST TO COVER THEIR TRACKS. NONE OF THEM HAVE STEPPED FORWARD AS THE LEADER, AND I HEARD SOME OF THE DI'S STARTED A (DISCRETE) POOL TRYING TO GUESS WHO THE GURU WAS. JACKSON HAS HIS MONEY ON [S-319], WHILE MOST OF THE OTHERS ARE HIGHLIGHTING [S-311] DUE TO HER HIGH IQ SCORES. I'VE NOTICED WITH DISTINCT INTEREST THAT LASZLO DOESN'T HAVE A BET PLACED (PERSONALLY, I DON'T KNOW THEM WELL ENOUGH TO MAKE A WAGER –– BUT WOULD PUT MONEY ON [S-341], JUST BECAUSE NO ONE ELSE SEEMS TO BE).

IF THERE'S ANY BRIGHT SIDE IN THIS –– BESIDES GIVING OUR SECURITY TEAM A LIST OF A FEW DOZEN IMPROVEMENTS TO BE MADE –– IT'S THAT IT'S HELPED DISTRACT ME SOMEWHAT. IT'S HARD TO BE CONSUMED WITH GUILT WHEN YOU'RE BUSY SWEARING AT A DI AND SEARCHING FOR MISSING RECRUITS. I THINK THAT'S THE CLOSEST THING I'LL FIND TO A SOLUTION: THROW MYSELF INTO THE PROGRAM AND DO MY ABSOLUTE BEST TO HELP TRAIN THESE KIDS. IT'S TOO LATE TO SAVE THE CLONES, OR TO UNDUE THE DAMAGE I'VE DONE TO THEIR LIVES…BUT I CAN TRY AND MINIMIZE IT, AND HELP THEM TO SAVE THE LIVES OF OTHER PEOPLE AS WELL. THAT'S THE HOPE, ANYWAY.

**NOVEMBER 9TH, 2540**

TRAINING IS ON SCHEDULE, AND FOR THE MOST PART, THERE AREN'T MANY SURPRISES. LASZLO IS HOLDING FAIRLY TRUE TO HALSEY'S MODEL, AND IS REPLICATING HER WORK WELL (PERHAPS BETTER, GIVEN THE QUALITY OF THE CANDIDATE'S HE'S WORKING WITH). I'VE BEEN DOING MY BEST TO HELP WITH THE TRAINING, AND WHILE THE DI'S ARE ALL MUCH BETTER QUALIFIED TO TEACH, I DO WHATEVER I CAN TO HELP PLAN THE DRILLS AND ORGANIZE THINGS. IT'S A CHALLENGE SOMETIMES JUST TO FIND WORK, AND THAT FEELS DOWNRIGHT WRONG. THE LIST OF PLANET'S LOST TO THE COVENANT IS GROWING EVERY MONTH, AND SITTING IN A CHAIR, DOING NOTHING, DEFINITELY DOES NOT SIT WELL WITH ME.

NOT ALL DOOM AND GLOOM, THOUGH. THE FIRST WAVE OF CANDIDATE PROGRESS REPORTS ARE IN, AND THEY'RE WELL AHEAD OF THE PROJECTED EXPECTATIONS –– EVEN THE RANDOM ONES WE PICKED UP OFF THE STREET. ONI ANALYSTS (AND MY OWN INDEPENDENT PROJECTIONS) PREDICTED WE'D BE SEEING APPROXIMATELY 90% OF THE ORIGINAL CHARLIE ONE PERFORMANCE BY NOW, BUT THE CANDIDATES ARE STILL MATCHING THEM FAIRLY CLOSE. A FEW ARE AS LOW AS 95%, BUT THEY'RE BEING BUOYED BY A LARGE CROP OF RECRUITS THAT ARE MATCHING THEM EXACTLY –– [S-338], [S-343], AND [S-341] IN PARTICULAR. THE FIRST TWO ARE EVEN SURPASSING SOME OF THE LESS PROFICIENT CHARLIE ONE CANDIDATES.

I HAD A MINOR ALTERCATION WITH AN ONI AGENT EARLIER THIS WEEK WHEN HE TRIED TO TAKE SOME OF THE CANDIDATES FOR "TESTING" WITHOUT ASKING ME OR LASZLO, AND IT TOOK SOME SERIOUS SMOOTH TALK BY RICH TO CALM THINGS DOWN. I'M STARTING TO GET THE FEELING AGAIN THAT I'M NOT WELCOME HERE, AND I'M WATCHING MY BACK. I'VE ACTUALLY STARTED GETTING COMFORTABLE HERE (THESE RECRUITS ARE REMARKABLY INNOCENT FOR ALL THEY'VE BEEN THROUGH, AND BEING AROUND THEM TENDS TO PUT ME A LITTLE TOO MUCH AT EASE), AND IT'S HARDER AND HARDER TO STAY VIGILANT. I KNOW I HAVE TO, BECAUSE EVEN IF THEY'RE ON MY SIDE, I KNOW ONI IS DEFINITELY NOT LOOKING OUT FOR THE BEST INTERESTS OF THESE KIDS. AND IF THEY'RE NOT, THAT MEANS I HAVE TOO.

**DECEMBER 22ND, 2540**

**2541**

WE WANTED TO HAVE OUR TEAM LEADER ROSTER UP A MINIMUM OF SIX MONTHS INTO TRAINING, AND WE WERE VERY CLOSE TO THAT DEADLINE. THE CHARLIE ONES DIDN'T REALLY TAKE ON A DEFINITIVE COMMAND STRUCTURE UNTIL BASICALLY 2 YEARS INTO THEIR TRAINING, BUT LASZLO'S MORE FOCUSED TEAM BUILDING HAS HEIGHTENED THE NEED FOR ORGANIZED LEADERSHIP. PICKING LEADERS IS HARD, BECAUSE IT'S STILL EARLY, AND SOME OF OUR BEST CANDIDATES COULD BE LATE BLOOMERS, BUT I FEEL FAIRLY CONFIDENT IN OUR CHOICES (THEY CAN ALL BE MODIFIED, IF NEED BE, AS WELL).

AS IT STANDS, WE'VE GOT DEFINITE LEADERS FOR SEVEN TEAMS, WITH LIKELY CANDIDATES FOR THE OTHER THREE. OUR CRITERIA WAS BASED ON A NUMBER OF FACTORS, BUT NAMELY ON THE CANDIDATE'S COMBAT ABILITIES AND LEADERSHIP TALENT. A FEW WERE OBVIOUS –– LIKE [S-338] FOR TAN, [S-341] FOR CRIMSON (WHO I'M NOW CONVINCED, BY THE WAY, MASTERMINDED THEIR FAILED ESCAPE ATTEMPT 5 MONTHS AGO), [S-312] FOR SILVER, AND [S––309] FOR TURQUOISE –– BUT THERE WERE PLENTY OF DIFFICULT ONES TOO. SCARLET, OLIVE, AND CYAN WERE ALL NAIL BITERS (WE ENDED UP CHOOSING [S-356] FOR SCARLET, [S-316] FOR OLIVE, AND [S-314] FOR CYAN –– [S-343] WAS CONSIDERED, BECAUSE SHE'S THE MOST CAPABLE MEMBER IN THE WHOLE TEAM, BUT [S––314] IS THE ONLY ONE WHO CAN KEEP THEM IN LINE.)

AS FOR THE THREE SQUADS LEFT LEADERLESS (ORANGE, GOLD, AND VIOLET), WE'RE STILL DELIBERATING. LASZLO MOSTLY HAS YET TO IDENTIFY A REALLY SOLID, STAND OUT LEADER IN VIOLET AND ORANGE, AND IS WAITING TO SEE IF ANYTHING DEVELOPS. GOLD ON THE OTHER HAND, IS TRICKY. NEITHER ME NOR LASZLO CAN REALLY DECIDE; WE'VE GOT TWO CANDIDATES PRIME FOR A LEADERSHIP ROLE ([S-363] AND [S-347]), BUT THEY BOTH HAVE DISTINCT TALENTS AND WEAKNESSES; [S-363] ISN'T NEARLY AS TACTICALLY ADEPT AS [S-347], BUT HE'S MODEST, CAUTIONARY, AND HAS A TALENT FOR MAKING HIS TEAM WORK SEAMLESSLY WELL TOGETHER. [S-347], BY CONTRAST, HAS ALL THE NECESSARY TACTICAL ABILITIES (AND THEN SOME) BUT LACKS A MORE PERSONAL TOUCH –– LIKE I NOTED WHEN WE PICKED HER UP, SHE'S GOT A BIG HEAD AND IS A BIT OF A HELLCAT; THE SQUAD FINDS HER ABRADING AT TIMES. WE'RE TRYING HARD TO FIGURE OUT WHICH WE'LL PUT IN COMMAND, BUT IT'S DEFINITELY A WORK IN PROGRESS.

**MARCH 25TH, 2541**

FINALLY GOT TEAM LEADERS SORTED OUT FOR THE REST OF THE SQUADS; WE GOT ORANGE AND VIOLET SET BY EARLY APRIL, BUT THE ROSTER FOR GOLD ELUDED US UNTIL TODAY. FINALLY, AFTER A FEW HEART-TO-HEART CHATS, I DECIDED TO GO FOR [S-363] OVER [S-347]. AT LASZLO'S SUGGESTION, WE PUT [S-347] IN AS THE SECOND IN COMMAND OF GOLD, TO HELP LESSEN THE TENSION OF THE DECISION; HOPEFULLY THE POSITION WILL BE ENOUGH FOR HER. IF NOT…WELL, WE'LL CROSS THAT BRIDGE WHEN WE GET TO IT. NOT MUCH WE CAN DO ABOUT IT RIGHT NOW, SHORT OF TRANSFERRING HER OUT (AND THAT'S THE ABSOLUTE LAST THING I WANT TO DO –– I DON'T IMAGINE A TRANSFER WOULD BE PRETTY FOR ANYONE INVOLVED).

WITH THE SQUAD LEADER ROSTER WORKED OUT THOUGH, THINGS HAVE PRETTY MUCH SETTLED DOWN. TRAINING IS GOING WELL, AND ALTHOUGH WE'RE STILL IN THE BEGINNING STAGES, THE FUTURE (FOR THE PROGRAM AT LEAST) LOOKS BRIGHT; THE RECRUITS HAVE ALL ADJUSTED WELL TO THE NEW ENVIRONMENT, ARE HONING THEIR BASIC COMBAT SKILLS, AND IN SOME CASES, ARE EVEN EXCELLING. A FEW TEAMS IN PARTICULAR ARE OF NOTE; CRIMSON TEAM (WHO, DESPITE THEIR ROGUE––ISH BEHAVIOR, ARE ALL PROVING EXTREMELY CAPABLE) ARE SCORING HIGHER ON ACADEMIC TESTING THAN MANY OF THE CLASS II'S DID, CYAN TEAM RECENTLY EARNED THE HONOR OF BEING THE FIRST TO QUALIFY WITH MARKSMAN LEVEL SCORES ON THEIR RIFLE TESTS, AND TAN TEAM IS LEADING THE WAY IN TACTICS TRAINING, WITH HIGH SCORES ALL AROUND. MEANWHILE, WE'VE GOT ANOTHER SURPRISE IN SCARLET TEAM; THEY'RE NOT ONE OF OUR BEST SQUADS, BUT THEY'RE ALL VERY SPECIALIZED, MAKING A STRONGER UNIT OVERALL.

IN FACT, THE TEAM'S PERFORMANCE IS HOLDING TRUE TO THEIR EARLIER EXAMPLE A FEW MONTHS AGO; THEY ARE ACTUALLY PERFORMING BETTER THAN ANTICIPATED. WHETHER IT'S FROM LASZLO'S TUTELAGE OR FROM SHEER TENACITY, OUR KIDS ARE PULLING OFF 95% RATIOS, SAME AS BEFORE. I'M HONESTLY TEMPTED TO SAY IT'S FROM THEIR OWN SHEER STUBBORNNESS; THEY ARE ALL ROUGHLY EQUAL IN MOST FIELDS, EVEN WHERE NATURAL APTITUDES DICTATE CERTAIN INDIVIDUALS SHOULD BE STRONGER –– LEADING ME TO BELIEVE THEY'RE PUSHING EACH OTHER TO DO BETTER. IT'S FUNNY THAT THEY'RE BREAKING SO HEAVILY FROM ONI'S EXPECTATIONS, BECAUSE THEY'RE ACTUALLY FAIRLY PREDICTABLE; OTHER THAN A FEW MINUTE DIFFERENCES, THEY ALL HAVE ROUGHLY SIMILAR SKILL SETS. A FEW TEAMS (LIKE THE ONES I NOTED ABOVE) ARE DIFFERENT IN THAT THEY'RE A LITTLE BIT BETTER, BUT THAT'S ABOUT IT.

SEEMS I'M RAMBLING NOW, SO I THINK I MAY CUT THIS ENTRY OFF HERE. HAD A MINOR LEG OPERATION DONE A FEW DAYS AGO ON A RECENT TRAINING INJURY, AND THE PAINKILLERS ARE PLAYING HELL WITH MY HEAD.

**JUNE 18TH, 2541**

_**PSYCHOLOGICAL EVALUATIONS, YEAR 1 (2541)**_

_**(TRANSCRIPT #24: EVALUATOR: SAKURA KISHIMOTO; SUBJECT: BALDUIN-324)**_

**[BALDUIN ENTERS THE ROOM AND SITS DOWN AT THE EVALUATOR'S PROMPTING.]**

**KISHIMOTO**: IT'S GOOD TO SEE YOU WELL, BALDUIN.

**BALDUIN**: HEY, I'M ALWAYS IN GOOD SHAPE!

**KISHIMOTO**: I ADMIRE YOUR RESILIENCE AND ENTHUSIASM, BALDUIN, BUT WE BOTH KNOW THE DOCTOR SAYS DIFFERENTLY.

**BALDUIN**: REALLY, MS. KISHIMOTO, I'M FINE.

**[BALDUIN GIVES A REASSURING SMILE.]**

**KISHIMOTO**: I ALMOST BELIEVE YOU WHEN YOU SAY IT LIKE THAT. YOU'RE A SWEET BOY, BALDUIN.

**[BALDUIN LOOKS DOWN, CHEEKS FLUSHED.]**

**KISHIMOTO**: BUT I KNOW FOR A FACT THAT ROGER PUNCHED YOU TWO DAYS AGO.

**BALDUIN**: THAT? THAT DIDN'T FAZE ME AT ALL.

**KISHIMOTO**: IT BROKE YOUR NOSE AND YOU LOST TWO OF YOUR TEETH.

**BALDUIN**: I CAN STILL CHEW JUST FINE. BESIDES, I TWISTED MY NOSE BACK INTO PLACE, SO NO HARM DONE. PLUS, I OUTRAN HIM YESTERDAY.

**[BALDUIN GIVES A SATISFIED SMILE – A GAP CAN BE SEEN BETWEEN HIS TEETH.]**

**KISHIMOTO**: I WANTED TO TALK WITH YOU ABOUT THAT TOO. YOU COLLAPSED FROM EXHAUSTION THE MOMENT YOU PASSED THE FINISH LINE. AND THE DOCTOR FOUND YOU HAD A TWISTED ANKLE, SKINNED KNEES AND MORE BLISTERS ON YOUR SOLES THAN ANY OF THE OTHER RECRUITS.

**BALDUIN**: YEAH, BUT I STILL BEAT HIM. ISN'T THAT BETTER THAN PUNCHING HIM?

**KISHIMOTO**: YES, IT IS, BUT I FEAR YOU'RE PUSHING YOURSELF TOO HARD. YOU'RE GOING TO HURT YOUR BODY IN THE LONG––TERM IF YOU KEEP THIS UP.

**[BALDUIN STARTS TO LOOK UNEASY.]**

**BALDUIN**: WITH ALL DUE RESPECT, MS. KISHIMOTO, BUT YOU'RE JUST THE THERAPIST, RIGHT? ISN'T IT CAPTAIN KATONA'S DUTY TO MANAGE OUR TRAINING REGIMEN?

**KISHIMOTO**: YES, BUT PUSHING YOUR BODY BEYOND ITS LIMITS IS A PROBLEM – ONE THAT I'M CONVINCED IS JUST A SYMPTOM OF SOMETHING YOU'RE GOING THROUGH PSYCHOLOGICALLY.

**BALDUIN**: I DON'T SEE THE PROBLEM. THE CAPTAIN COMMENDED ME ON COMING THIRD IN THE RACE. IF SOMETHING WAS WRONG, I THINK HE WOULD HAVE SAID SOMETHING.

**KISHIMOTO**: I'VE NO DOUBT THE CAPTAIN IS A GOOD, RESPECTABLE MAN, BUT HIS OPINIONS AREN'T ABSOLUTE.

**BALDUIN**: BUT HE'S A SPARTAN. HE HAS TO KNOW MORE ABOUT TRAINING THEM THAN YOU DO – NO OFFENSE, MS. KISHIMOTO.

**KISHIMOTO**: NONE TAKEN, BALDUIN. I THINK THAT MAY BE HIS PROBLEM – HE'S TREATING YOU LIKE YOU WERE RECRUITS TO THE PROGRAM THAT CREATED HIM, WHETHER YOU'RE CAPABLE OF DOING THE SAME THINGS OR NOT.

**[BALDUIN'S FACE HARDENS AT THE LAST SENTENCE.]**

**BALDUIN**: ARE YOU SAYING I'M INCAPABLE?

**KISHIMOTO**: I'M SAYING YOU'RE PUSHING YOURSELF TOO FAR.

**BALDUIN**: I'M PUSHING MYSELF ENOUGH TO CATCH UP TO EVERYONE ELSE. ISN'T THAT WHAT THIS TRAINING IS ABOUT? BECOMING STRONG ENOUGH TO FIGHT THE COVENANT?

**KISHIMOTO**: YOU WON'T BENEFIT FROM A BODY BROKEN BEFORE ITS TIME, BALDUIN.

**[THERE IS A LONG PAUSE.]**

**KISHIMOTO**: ANYWAY, I TRUST YOU LIKE IT HERE?

**[BALDUIN INSTANTLY LOOKS MORE ENTHUSIASTIC.]**

**BALDUIN**: YEAH! WE'RE LEARNING SO MUCH, I FEEL LIKE WE CAN DO THIS. YOU KNOW, FIGHT THE COVENANT. AND AVALANCHE – THE AI –– TEACHES US SO MUCH COOL HISTORY – DID YOU KNOW ABOUT THE BATTLE OF THERMOPYLAE? OR THE BATTLE OF MONTGISARD? DID YOU KNOW THAT IN THE LATTER A KING WITH MY NAME DEFEATED A FAR SUPERIOR ARMY EVEN THOUGH HE HAD LEPROSY? AND DID YOU––

**KISHIMOTO**: NOT AS WELL AS YOU, I'M SURE, BALDUIN. I'M GLAD YOU'RE ENJOYING YOURSELF – WHEN YOU FIRST CAME HERE, YOU SEEMED...RELUCTANT.

**[BALDUIN LOOKS AWAY, CONTEMPLATING.]**

**BALDUIN**: THAT WAS THEN. I MISSED MY PARENTS AND SISTER, AND WORRIED IF THEY WERE OKAY. BUT THEN I REALIZED THAT THEY'RE ON EARTH – THERE'S NO SAFER PLACE, RIGHT? AND I REALIZED THAT...I'M NEEDED HERE. I CAN DO MORE GOOD AS A SPARTAN THAN I EVER COULD IF I HAD STAYED AT HOME.

**KISHIMOTO**: THAT'S A VERY ADULT WAY TO LOOK AT IT, BALDUIN. IT'S A RELIEF YOU FEEL SO WELL ABOUT BEING HERE. AM I TO ASSUME YOU'RE GETTING ALONG WITH YOUR FELLOW RECRUITS, THEN? EXCEPT FOR ROGER?

**BALDUIN**: YEAH, WE'RE GETTING ALONG. KAITO REALLY HELPED ME PUT THINGS INTO PERSPECTIVE. POINTED OUT HOW IMPORTANT FIGHTING THE COVENANT REALLY IS.

**KISHIMOTO**: YES, CECILIA AND MEGAN TOLD ME THE SAME THING ABOUT HIM. BUT THEN, THAT MAKES SENSE, DOESN'T IT? HE WOULD KNOW HOW MUCH DESTRUCTIVE POWER THE COVENANT POSSESSES.

**BALDUIN**: YEAH, EXACTLY.

**KISHIMOTO**: IS THERE ANYTHING ELSE YOU'D LIKE TO TALK ABOUT, BALDUIN?

**[BALDUIN OPENS HIS MOUTH, BUT SUBSEQUENTLY CLOSES IT AND SHAKES HIS HEAD.]**

**KISHIMOTO**: VERY WELL, THEN THAT'S ALL FOR TODAY. I WISH YOU LUCK.

_**PSYCHOLOGICAL EVALUATIONS, YEAR 1 (2541)**_

_**(TRANSCRIPT #38: EVALUATOR: SAKURA KISHIMOTO; SUBJECT: CONNOR-338)**_

**[CONNOR ENTERS THE ROOM, SMILES, AND SITS DOWN]**

**CONNOR**: HELLO MS. KISHIMTO.

**KISHIMOTO**: WHY HELLO CONNOR. HOW ARE YOU FEELING TODAY?

**CONNOR**: GOOD. WE WON THIS MORNING'S EXCERCISE AGAINST GOLD TEAM.

**KISHIMOTO**: I HEARD. YOU YOURSELF BROUGHT DOWN MASON IN A LONG RANGE SHOOTOUT, DIDN'T YOU? YOU MUST BE PROUD.

**CONNOR**: OH YEAH! HE WAS ON THE TALLEST ROCK RIDGE BUT THE WAY HE POSITIONED HIMSELF WAS SORT OF SILLY, CAUSE THERE WERE TREES ON THE OTHER SIDE THAT WERE ACTUALLY TALLER AND ROCKS BEHIND HIM THAT HE COULDN'T WATCH AT THE SAME TIME! THE TREE HAD SPIKY BRANCHES AND THOSE REALLY HURT SO THAT'S MAYBE WHY HE DIDN'T WANT TO USE THE TREE BUT I JUST BIT MY BACK TEETH TOGETHER AND HAD MELLISSA TAKE ALL THE OTHERS AROUND THE SIDE IN ONE OF THOSE FLANKING MANEUVER THINGS LASZLO TAUGHT US ABOUT THREE DAYS AGO AND I MISSED A COUPLE OF THE FIRST SHOTS AT MASON BUT HE WAS ALL CONFUSED BY MELLISSA BEHIND HIM IN THE ROCKS AND COULDN'T SEE ME IN THE TREE AND I TOTALLY GOT HIM!

**[KISHIMOTO LAUGHS AND SMILES]**

**KISHIMOTO**: YOU SOUND LIKE YOU'RE LEARNING A LOT, CONNOR.

**CONNOR**: IT'S NOT REALLY TOO HARD I GUESS. JACKSON AND AMBER NEEDED HELP WITH THE COMPASS COURSE LAST WEEK BUT THEY CAUGHT ON ONCE I STARTED IT. I WAS REALLY GLAD.

**KISHIMOTO**: WHY WERE YOU GLAD?

**CONNOR**: WELL I MEAN WHEN THEY WERE CONFUSED I FELT REALLY BAD FOR THEM AND KIND OF SICK IN MY TUMMY. I KNEW THEY COULD DO IT THOUGH. AMBER'S REALLY SMART AND JACKSON ALWAYS HAS FUNNY JOKES AND I TOTALLY DON'T SO I MEAN HE'S REALLY SMART TOO.

**KISHIMTO**: YOU REALLY LIKE YOUR TEAMMATES?

**CONNOR**: DEFINITELY. THEY ALWAYS LISTEN TO WHAT I'M SAYING AND THEY'RE NICE AND SMART AND THEY LOOK OUT FOR ME.

**KISHIMTO**: DO YOU LIKE BEING SQUAD LEADER? COLONEL STANDOFF MADE YOU LEADER IN ONE OF THE FIRST SELECTIONS.

**CONNOR**: YEAH I CAN WATCH OUT FOR THEM. IF SOMEONE HAS A GOOD IDEA I CAN MAKE EVERYONE BE QUIET AND LISTEN TO THEM. AND WHEN I'VE GOT GOOD IDEAS I CAN JUST DO THEM RIGHT AWAY.

**KISHIMTO**: YOU'RE VERY CONFIDENT CONNOR. YOU THINK YOU HAVE GOOD IDEAS?

**[CONNOR SMILES]**

**CONNOR:** PRETTY OFTEN. I THINK I'M GOOD AT THE LEADING STUFF. LASZLO SAYS I'M A NATURAL WITH THINGS LIKE "TACTICS" AND TELLS ME HE THINKS I'M GOING TO BE A GOOD SHOOTER. I MEAN, I THINK HE MIGHT THINK I'M BETTER THAN I REALLY AM BUT I FEEL LIKE I DO A GOOD JOB.

**KISHIMOTO**: IT'S NICE TO SEE YOU SO HAPPY. YOU WERE SHYER WHEN YOU FIRST CAME HERE.

**CONNOR**: I GUESS I HADN'T MET MY TEAM YET. THEY WERE REALLY NICE AND THEY LISTENED ABOUT HOME. IT HELPED A LOT.

**KISHIMOTO**: ARE YOU GLAD TO BE HERE?

**[CONNOR'S SMILE FADES CAUTIOUSLY FOR A MOMENT, THEN RETURNS]**

**CONNOR**: YEAH. I MEAN, IT'S EXCITING AND MY TEAM IS DOING REALLY GOOD. I THINK WE'RE GONNA BE RIGHT AT THE TOP NEXT YEAR. I MEAN, I KNOW IT'S GOING TO BE HARD BUT I HAVE A FEELING IT'S GOING TO BE GOOD.

**[KISHIMOTO PATS CONNOR'S HAND, THEN MOTIONS TO THE DOOR]**

**KISHIMOTO**: IT'S BEEN WONDERFUL TALKING WITH YOU CONNOR. YOU CAN GO.

_**PSYCHOLOGICAL EVALUATIONS, YEAR 1 (2541)**_

_**(TRANSCRIPT #41: EVALUATOR: SAKURA KISHIMOTO; SUBJECT: ROGER-341)**_

**[ROGER ENTERS THE ROOM, AND TAKES A SEAT WITHOUT EVALUATOR'S CONSENT.]**

**KISHIMOTO**: HELLO ROGER. I'VE HEARD NOTHING BUT POSITIVE THINGS SINCE OUR LAST SESSION. YOU'VE BEEN PROMOTED TO SQUAD LEADER BY COLONEL STANDOFF, YES? AND YOUR TEAM RANKED NUMBER ONE IN ACADEMICS AND ARE MATCHING THE TRAINING SCORE BENCHMARKS.

**ROGER**: IS THERE A POINT TO ALL OF THAT?

**KISHIMOTO**: WELL ROGER, I WAS TRYING TO SAY IT'S GOOD TO SEE YOU AGAIN.

**ROGER**: CAN'T REALLY SAY THE SAME.

**KISHIMOTO**: YOU DON'T WANT TO SEE ME?

**[ROGER PUTS HIS FEET ON THE DESK IN FRONT OF HIM]**

**ROGER**: WHY WOULD I?

**KISHIMOTO**: TRAINING CAN BE HARD, ROGER. IT CAN HELP TO TALK TO SOMEONE ABOUT YOUR CHALLENGES. THAT WAY, YOU WORK THROUGH THEM TOGETHER INSTEAD OF BY YOURSELF.

**ROGER**: I DON'T NEED A SHRINK FOR THAT. MY TEAMMATES ARE THERE FOR ME.

**[KISHIMOTO LEANS FORWARD, MAKING EYE CONTACT WITH ROGER. HE MAINTAINS IT.]**

**KISHIMOTO**: YOU TRUST YOUR TEAMMATES, ROGER?

**ROGER**: A HELL OF A LOT MORE THAN I TRUST YOU.

**KISHIMOTO**: YOU DON'T TRUST ME, ROGER?

**ROGER**: WHY WOULD I? YOU'RE A SHRINK. YOU'RE TRYING TO GET IN MY HEAD, NOT HELP ME OUT. YOU'VE GOT FANCY WORDS AND INSPIRING SPEECHES. MICA PUNCHED THAT LOUDMOUTH JENNY IN THE MOUTH WHEN I NEEDED HER. DON'T THINK YOU WOULD HAVE.

**[KISHIMOTO MOMENTARILY TRIES TO BREAK EYE CONTACT. ROGER FOLLOWS HER GAZE.]**

**KISHIMOTO**: I'M CONCERNED ABOUT THE PATTERN OF VIOLENT BEHAVIOR YOU'VE EXHIBITED, ROGER. WE'VE ALREADY DISCUSSED THE WAY YOU IMMEDIATELY RESORTED TO VIOLENCE ON THE FIRST DAY. CAPTAIN KATONA INFORMS ME YOU'VE BEEN INVOLVED IN TWO FURTHER ALTERCATIONS SINCE OUR LAST SESSIONS. THERE ARE WAYS TO SOLVE PROBLEMS WITHOUT VIOLENCE, ROGER.

**ROGER**: WHICH IS WHY YOU ASSHOLES ABDUCTED A BUNCH OF US KIDS TO FIGHT A WAR FOR YOU, RIGHT?

**KISHIMOTO**: YOU WERE CHOSEN TO FIGHT THE COVENANT BECAUSE WE NEED YOU, ROGER. AND THERE'S A DIFFERENCE BETWEEN KILLING COVENANT AND HURTING YOUR FRIENDS.

**ROGER**: I'VE NEVER HURT MY FRIENDS.

**KISHIMOTO**: NOW ROGER, YOU KNOW HOW I FEEL ABOUT YOU LYING TO ME. CAPTAIN KATONA TELLS ME YOU HIT CANDIDATE BALDUIN THREE DAYS AGO.

**ROGER**: BALDUIN ISN'T MY FRIEND. MICA IS. JAMES IS. MAGGIE IS. JACOB IS.

**KISHIMOTO**: BUT THE OTHER CANDIDATES ARE YOUR FELLOW SOLDIERS. YOUR BROTHERS AND SISTERS IN ARMS. REMEMBER? CAPTAIN KATONA HAD A TALK WITH YOUR CLASS TWO MONTHS AGO. I KNOW YOU RESPECT CAPTAIN KATONA.

**ROGER**: YEAH, I DO. CAUSE HE'S LOOKING OUT FOR MY TEAM. DOESN'T MEAN I BELIEVE HIM.

**KISHIMOTO**: YOU SEEM TO BELIEVE HIM ABOUT THE IMPORTANCE OF YOUR TRAINING, THOUGH. THE CAPTAIN TELLS ME YOU'VE BEEN THROWING YOURSELF INTO IT.

**ROGER**: THAT'S BECAUSE TRAINING IS ACTUALLY IMPORTANT.

**KISHIMOTO**: WHY DO YOU THINK SO, ROGER?

**ROGER**: BECAUSE I NEED IT TO KILL COVENANT. WHAT, TOO STUPID TO FIGURE THAT OUT?

**KISHIMOTO**: NAME CALLING ISN'T NICE ROGER. AND WHY DO YOU WANT TO KILL COVENANT, ROGER? DIDN'T YOU SAY YOU WERE ANGRY AT BEING CHOSEN?

**ROGER**: ANGRY AT BEING _ABDUCTED_. I'M EIGHT, NOT AN IDIOT. I LOOKED UP THE WORD IN THE DICTIONARY. YOU HAD PEOPLE COME AND TAKE ME OUT OF MY BED.

**[KISHIMOTO SHIFTS UNEASILY.]**

**KISHIMOTO**: ROGER, I KNOW YOU'RE ONLY SEVEN.

**ROGER**: OH, SO YOU ARE PAYING ATTENTION. AND HERE I THOUGHT YOU REALLY MIGHT BE COMPLETELY STUPID.

**KISHIMOTO**: I'D LIKE YOU TO ANSWER MY ORIGINAL QUESTION, ROGER. WHY DO YOU WANT TO KILL COVENANT IF YOU'RE ANGRY ABOUT...THE WAY YOU ENDED UP HERE?

**ROGER**: CAUSE IF I DON'T KILL THEM, THEY'LL PROBABLY KILL ME AND MY TEAM EVENTUALLY.

**KISHIMOTO**: THAT'S IT?

**ROGER**: PRETTY MUCH.

**KISHIMOTO**: WHAT IF THEY WERE TRYING TO GLASS MIRIDEM? WOULDN'T YOU WANT TO STOP THEM?

**ROGER**: AM I ON MIRIDEM? OR MY TEAMMATES?

**KISHIMOTO**: WELL, NO––

**ROGER**: THEN IT'S A STUPID QUESTION.

**[KISHIMOTO OPENS HER MOUTH TO SPEAK, BUT STOPS WHEN ROGER MEETS HER EYE ****AGAIN. SHE OPENS THE DOOR.]**

**KISHIMOTO**: YOU'RE DISMISSED, ROGER.

**ROGER**: I THOUGHT SO.

_**PSYCHOLOGICAL EVALUATIONS, YEAR 1 (2541)**_

_**(TRANSCRIPT #41: EVALUATOR: SAKURA KISHIMOTO; SUBJECT: RACHEL-341)**_

**[RACHEL ENTERS THE ROOM AND SITS DOWN AT THE EVALUATOR'S PROMPTING.]**

**KISHIMOTO**: HELLO, RACHEL. HOW ARE YOU DOING?

**RACHEL**: GOOD, I GUESS.

**[RACHEL LOOKS AWAY FROM KISHIMOTO AND RETRIEVES A LIGHTER FROM HER POCKET, STARTING TO FLICK IT ON AND OFF.]**

**KISHIMOTO**: ERR, RACHEL, WOULD YOU PLEASE PUT THAT AWAY?

**RACHEL**: WHY? IS IT DISTRACTING YOU?

**[RACHEL STARES AT KISHIMOTO. KISHIMOTO SEEMS TO INVOLUNTARY FALL BACK INTO HER CHAIR.]**

**KISHIMOTO**: LOOK, RACHEL, IF YOU KEEP DOING THAT I MIGHT HAVE TO CALL THE DIs OUTSIDE TO TAKE IT FROM YOU.

**RACHEL**: SO WHAT? I CAN ALWAYS TAKE ANOTHER ONE LATER.

**[KISHIMOTO MOVES UNEASILY IN HER SEAT.]**

**KISHIMOTO**: RACHEL, IT'S NOT NICE TO TAKE OTHER PEOPLE'S THINGS. NOW, WOULD YOU PLEASE PUT THAT AWAY? OTHERWISE, I WILL HAVE TO FILE A REPORT OF THIS TO CAPTAIN KATONA.

**[RACHEL ROLLS HER EYES, SIGHS FRUSTRATEDLY, AND PUTS THE LIGHTER BACK IN HER POCKET.]**

**KISHIMOTO**: THANK YOU, RACHEL. THEN LET US CONTINUE. DO YOU LIKE IT HERE?

**RACHEL**: BEATS BEING GLASSED. DO YOU?

**KISHIMOTO**: WHAT?

**RACHEL**: DO YOU LIKE IT HERE?

**KISHIMOTO**: I...I'M AFRAID THAT'S NOT RELEVANT RIGHT NOW.

**RACHEL**: WHAT? YOU'RE ASKING ME QUESTIONS. WHY CAN'T I ASK YOU? DO YOU THINK YOU'RE BETTER THAN ME? IS THAT IT?

**[RACHEL'S HAND SUBTLY GLIDES TOWARDS HER POCKET.]**

**KISHIMOTO**: WHAT!? I...NO, I DON'T THINK...THAT IS TO SAY...

**[KISHIMOTO STARTS SWEATING.]**

**RACHEL**: NEVER MIND. I THINK I KNOW THE ANSWER.

**[KISHIMOTO STARTS TO LOOK PANICKED.]**

**RACHEL**: WE WALKED PAST THE MESS HALL ONCE. I SAW YOU SAT BY A TABLE ALL BY YOURSELF, QUIETLY EATING YOUR MEAL.

**[KISHIMOTO SHIFTS AROUND UNCOMFORTABLY.]**

**KISHIMOTO**: I, AH, APPRECIATE YOUR CONCERN, RACHEL. BUT THIS DISCUSSION IS ABOUT YOU. ARE...ARE YOU MAKING ANY FRIENDS?

**RACHEL**: MORE THAN YOU.

**[KISHIMOTO LOOKS AWAY, BREATHING HEAVILY.]**

**RACHEL**: YOU HATE IT HERE, DON'T YOU DOC? NOT MAKING FRIENDS IN A STRANGE PLACE, FAR AWAY FROM YOUR HUSBAND.

**[RACHEL INDICATES KISHIMOTO'S LEFT HAND, MORE SPECIFICALLY THE GOLDEN RING ON HER RING FINGER. SHE THEN NONCHALANTLY LOOKS AWAY AND PICKS UP HER LIGHTER AGAIN. KISHIMOTO FRANTICALLY PUSHES A BUTTON ON HER DESK.]**

**KISHIMOTO**: SE...SECURITY! PLEASE, TAKE HER OUT.

**[TWO DIs ENTER. ONE GRABS HOLD OF THE LIGHTER, WHILE THE OTHER NUDGES RACHEL TOWARDS THE DOOR. BEFORE THEY STEP OUT OF THE ROOM, RACHEL'S HAND CAN BE SEEN GRABBING THE LIGHTER BACK FROM THE DI'S POCKET.]**

_**PSYCHOLOGICAL EVALUATIONS, YEAR 1 (2541)**_

_**(TRANSCRIPT #63: EVALUATOR: OMID BASHIR; SUBJECT: MATHEW-363)**_

**[MATHEW ENTERS THE ROOM AND SITS DOWN AT THE EVALUATOR'S PROMPTING]**

**BASHIR**: HELLO, MATHEW. I DON'T BELIEVE WE'VE MET. I'M DOCTOR BASHIR.

**MATHEW**: WHERE'S MS. KISHIMOTO?

**BASHIR**: I HAD TO REPLACE HER, MATHEW. I'M SURE SHE'D BE TOUCHED YOU REMEMBERED HER, THOUGH.

**[MATHEW SMILES, BUT LOOKS UNEASY]**

**BASHIR**: IS SOMETHING WRONG, MATT? DO YOU MIND IF I CALL YOU MATT?

**MATHEW**: I GUESS NOT. ANNA CALLS ME MATT.

**BASHIR**: IS SHE THE ONLY ONE?

**MATHEW**: UH––HUH. NO ONE EXCEPT MY MOM CALLED ME MATT.

**BASHIR**: YOU STILL REMEMBER YOUR MOM, MATT? DO YOU MISS HER?

**MATHEW**: YEAH. BUT I LIKE MY TEAM. THEY'E REALLY NICE.

**BASHIR**: AND ANNA?

**MATHEW**: SHE'S THE NICEST, I GUESS. CAN WE TALK ABOUT SOMETHING DIFFERENT? I DON'T THINK SHE'D WANT ME TALKING ABOUT HER IF SHE CAN'T HEAR.

**BASHIR**: OF COURSE MATHEW. CAN I ASK YOU ABOUT YOUR LESSON WITH COLONEL STANDOFF TWO WEEKS AGO? WHERE HE SHOWED YOU THE VIDEOS OF THE COVENANT ATTACKS? HOW DID THAT MAKE YOU FEEL?

**[MATHEW FURROWS HIS BROW, THINKING.]**

**MATHEW**: IT'S WEIRD. YOU'LL THINK I'M A WEIRDO.

**BASHIR**: OF COURSE NOT MATHEW. YOU CAN TELL ME.

**MATHEW**: UMM...I MEAN SAD FOR ALL THOSE PEOPLE. BUT...HAPPY SORT OF.

**BASHIR**: HAPPY?

**MATHEW**: LIKE WHEN I FINISH A TEST. OR WHEN MY WHOLE TEAM GETS THROUGH THE OBSTACLE COURSE SAFE.

**BASHIR**: YOU FEEL RELIEVED?

**MATHEW**: I GUESS SO. I DIDN'T REALLY KNOW WHY WE WERE TRAINING BEFORE. IT BUGGED ME, MR. BASHIR. IT WAS A SECRET. BUT NOW I KNOW WHY WE'RE HERE. I DON'T MISS MY MOM AS MUCH ANYMORE.

**BASHIR**: THAT'S A VERY GROWN UP WAY OF LOOKING AT THINGS, MATHEW. CAPTAIN KATONA WOULD BE PROUD OF YOU.

**[MATHEW SMILES]**

**MATHEW**: REALLY?

**BASHIR**: I'M SURE. HE MADE YOU SQUAD LEADER, MATHEW. HE THINKS HIGHLY OF YOU.

**MATHEW**: BUT HE ALMOST MADE JENNY LEADER.

**BASHIR**: YOU WERE JUST BOTH VERY GOOD. IT WAS A HARD DECISION.

**MATHEW**: BUT––

**BASHIR**: MATHEW, CAPTAIN KATONA TELLS ME YOU CAN BE STUBBORN. THAT'S NOT NECESSARILY A BAD THING. I KNOW HE MADE YOU LEADER PARTLY BECAUSE YOU NEVER GIVE UP. BUT THIS IS A SILLY THING TO BE STUBBORN ABOUT, ISN'T IT?

**MATHEW**: I GUESS.

**BASHIR**: YOU DON'T WANT TO TALK ABOUT IT BECAUSE YOU DON'T WANT TO TALK ABOUT JENNIFER BEHIND HER BACK, DON'T YOU?

**MATHEW**: SHE'D BE ANGRY.

**[BASHIR SMILES]**

**BASHIR**: ON THAT, MATHEW, I THINK WE CAN AGREE. HAVE A NICE DAY.

* * *

><p>AN: First of all, right off the bat, I'd like to thank my fellow Halo Fanon user Matt––256 for all his help discussing character development, world building the ARES project with me, helping with story ideas, and contributing so much material. He helped give and refine my ideas for a dozen or more characters, and I miss writing with him. A few small segments of our cooperative work is used here (with permission), not because I want to pass it off as my own, but because it adds crucial context to the overarching narrative. Not every chapter I post will contain his material, and most of them contain none, but I always want to give credit where it is due. In this, he contributed the Interviews with Balduin and Rachel, and I think they definitely add to the larger whole.<p>

If you've made it this far, out of curiosity or enjoyment or sheer boredom, you'll be forgiven for wondering what exactly that larger whole is. I have a hard time putting it into words, exactly, because the plot for this series of short stories, journal entries, dialogues, messages, and audio logs is not your average middle––beginning––end, nor can it always be considered part of the same story. Collected here is several years worth of writing done over at Halo Fanon, arrayed chronologically, which includes stories that are often self––contained with their own cast of characters, but which also frequently bleed over and effect other works, sometimes in immediately obvious ways, sometimes over a longer period. I am sure there will be plenty of people who don't like it, and am aware that there may be no one who does. But that's a risk worth taking, I'd imagine. So, if it piques your interest, please read the other entries, critique them, and help me improve the overall whole. There's significantly more to come, and I think some of it is pretty good.


	2. Chapter 2

**_Griffin Standoff's Journal_**

**2542**

TODAY IS THE ANNIVERSARY. TWO YEARS; 730 DAYS OF TRAINING, STRUGGLES, MISHAPS, AND SUCCESSES. 104 WEEKS OF GUILT AND ANXIETY. IT'S HARD TO BELIEVE SO MUCH TIME HAS PASSED. FEEL'S LIKE YESTERDAY THAT I WAS INTERVIEWING THE KIDS FOR POTENTIAL (NOT THAT THOSE INTERVIEWS DID ANYTHING MORE THAN WASTE TIME IN THE LONG RUN). IT'S FUNNY; SOME THINGS STICK WITH YOU NO MATTER WHAT. WHEN I WAKE UP ON MY BIRTHDAY, IT TAKES AN AUTO-REMINDER TO MAKE ME REALIZE, AND I'D HAVE TO LOOK IN MY JOURNAL TO FIND THE ANNIVERSARY OF MY FIRST DAY OF COMPANY TRAINING. YET THE MOMENT I WOKE UP THIS MORNING, I KNEW EXACTLY WHAT THE DATE MEANT. FUNNY, REALLY.

FOR A WHILE, I THOUGHT I WAS THE ONLY ONE WHO REMEMBERED, BUT APPARENTLY THE SIGNIFICANCE WAS NOT LOST ON LASZLO EITHER. HE TOOK THE RECRUITS OUT TODAY FOR A RECREATION OF A FIELD TEST HIS GROUP WENT THROUGH WHEN THEY WERE CANDIDATES –– THE INFAMOUS "LOST IN THE WOODS" DEBACLE THAT ENDED IN [S-117] BEING MADE THEIR LEADER. WE DON'T REALLY HAVE LEADERS LIKE THAT IN THE PROJECT BECAUSE OF THE MORE TIGHT-KNIT TEAM GROUPS, SO THEIR PERFORMANCE WILL CERTAINLY BE INTERESTING-BUT SOMEHOW I FIND IT EQUALLY FASCINATING THAT LASZLO THOUGHT ABOUT THE ANNIVERSARY ENOUGH TO PLAN THIS TRAINING OP SPECIFICALLY FOR IT.

HE LEFT WITH THE CANDIDATES ABOUT AN HOUR AGO, AND THE FACILITY IS UNUSUALLY QUIET. I HAVE MORE TIME TO SIT AND THINK THEN I'VE HAD IN MONTHS. SO MANY THINGS HAVE HAPPENED IN THE PAST FEW YEARS, AND NONE OF THEM MAKE SENSE, EVEN NOW. I REALLY WONDER IF I'LL EVER GET OVER MY ROLE IN THIS; IN SOME WAYS, I REALLY DON'T WANT TOO. LASZLO WILL BE BACK IN A FEW HOURS, AND WE'LL HAVE A FEW MORE AFTER THAT BEFORE THE CANDIDATES FIND THEIR WAY BACK (IF PRIOR EXAMPLES HOLD TRUE). MAYBE I'LL FINALLY GET A CHANCE TO TALK TO HIM ABOUT SOMETHING OTHER THAN TRAINING. IT'S BEEN TWO YEARS, AND I STILL HARDLY KNOW THE MAN. MAYBE IT'S TIME THAT CHANGED.

**AUGUST 6TH, 2542**

**2543**

WHILE LASZLO HAS INTRODUCED SOME MINOR VARIATIONS AND CHANGES INTO THE TRAINING REGIMEN (SOME OF WHICH HAVE HAD MORE PROFOUND EFFECTS THAN EXPECTED-THE EARLY TEAM FORMATION IN PARTICULAR), WE ARE, IN GENERAL, TRYING TO STAY TRUE TO THE ORIGINAL METHODS USED BY HALSEY AND MENDEZ. YET SOMETIMES, WE PRODUCE VASTLY DIFFERENT RESULTS-EVEN USING THE SAME METHODOLOGIES AND PROCEDURES. CASE IN POINT IS THE SPECIALIZATION WE'RE SEEING IN THE CANDIDATES-OR LACK OF IT, AS THE CASE MAY BE, IN OTHERS-AND WHETHER OR NOT WE SHOULD PROMOTE IT.

HALSEY, TO BE CLEAR, DID NOT PROMOTE SPECIALIZATION. FOR SUCH A BRILLIANT WOMAN (BRILLIANT IN MIND, OBVIOUSLY, NOT IN SOUL) SHE HAD A STRANGE AVOIDANCE OF WHAT CONVENTIONAL MILITARY LOGIC DICTATES TO BE GOOD IDEAS. CANDIDATE SPECIALIZATION IS ONE OF THOSE AREAS. HALSEY SEEMED TO WANT THE CANDIDATES TO ALL BE CARBON COPIES, EQUALLY CAPABLE IN ALL AREAS - WITHOUT DISTINCT SKILL SETS. OBVIOUSLY, THIS DIDN'T END UP BEING THE CASE; [S-058] MORPHED INTO THE GROUP'S FOREMOST SHARPSHOOTER, [S-104] THEIR CQB EXPERT, [S-008] THEIR EVA SPECIALIST, [S-044] THEIR SCOUT, [S-052] THEIR SUPPORT SPECIALIST, [S-042] THEIR EXPLOSIVE EXPERT-BUT IT CERTAINLY WAS NEVER HER INTENTION.

OUR ATTITUDE TOWARDS THIS KIND OF SPECIALIZATION HAS BEEN NON-COMMITTAL, UP TO THIS POINT. LASZLO HIMSELF HAS DISTINCT SPECIALTIES, (MOST NOTABLY IN THE AREA OF ENGINEERING, SHARPSHOOTING, PILOTING, AND MEDICINE-OR SO HIS CSV SAYS) YET SEEMS HESITANT TO STRAY TO FAR FROM HALSEY'S MODEL (HE DOESN'T SEEM TO REALIZE THAT HIS IDEAS ARE JUST AS GOOD, IF NOT BETTER, THAN HERS) AND HAS THUS REMAINED AMBIGUOUS. THIS HAS WORKED WELL ENOUGH SO FAR, BUT UNFORTUNATELY, FATE SEEMS LIKE IT'S ABOUT TO FORCE OUR HAND. THE CANDIDATES ARE ALREADY BRANCHING OUT AND TAKING INTEREST IN SPECIFIC FIELDS, AND HAVE THEMSELVES INQUIRED ABOUT THE POSSIBILITY OF SPECIALIST TRAINING. [S-338], [S-317], AND [S-343] IN PARTICULAR ARE VOCAL SUPPORTERS OF ADDITIONAL OPTIONS (THOUGH [S-343] ASKED FOR TRAINING WITH THE FLAMETHROWER, SO I DON'T KNOW IF HUMORING HER IS WISE).

AT ANY RATE, IT'S TIME TO MAKE A DECISION.

**MAY 23RD, 2543**

THE WORLD RARELY COOPERATES TOTALLY WITH OUR PLANS, BUT IT STILL SEEMS LIKE WE DO OCCASIONALLY GET THOSE DAYS WHEN THINGS JUST GO TO TOTAL RAT SHIT AND EVERYTHING STARTS FALLING APART. FOR ME, THOSE DAYS USED TO BE STRAIGHT FORWARD AND COUNTER ABLE; BATTLES THAT GOT MESSY (WHERE OUR OPTIONS WERE ALL STRAIGHTFORWARD AND SIMPLE) OR, IF I WAS REALLY UNLUCKY, AN ARGUMENT WITH WOMAN (WHERE MY SOLUTION WAS MORE OFTEN THAN NOT SOME HEAVY DRINKING). NOWADAYS, NONE OF MY CRISES ARE EVER SO OBVIOUS - OR SO EASILY FIXED.

MY CURRENT ONES ARE SUBTLE AND DEVIOUS; THEY SNEAK UP ON ME AND ENTHRALL ME IN ALL KINDS OF TORMENTS. I HAVE A HARD TIME TAKING A LOT OF THEM SERIOUSLY SOMETIMES, BECAUSE MILITARY POLITICS JUST DOESN'T HAVE THE SAME SENSE OF DANGER AS A WAR ZONE - BUT THEY'RE JUST AS DEADLY IN THEIR OWN WAY. AND THE WORST PART IS THAT WHILE MY OLD CONFLICTS USED TO JUST INVOLVE ME, THESE NEW ONE'S ARE ALMOST NEVER ABOUT ME - AND IT MAKES THE SITUATION A HUNDRED TIMES MORE COMPLICATED, AT LEAST IN MY MIND.

THE ONE CURRENTLY CONFOUNDING ME IS FUNDING. RICH WENT TO A LOT OF WORK IN THE BEGINNING TO GATHER THE NECESSARY FUNDS FOR THE PROGRAM, AND THERE WAS SUPPOSED TO BE ENOUGH STORED UP IN THE COFFERS TO LAST US THROUGH TRAINING, AUGMENTATION, AND DEPLOYMENT. JUST BARELY ENOUGH, BUT ENOUGH NONETHELESS. PROBLEM IS, ONI'S PRESSED FOR CASH, AND RICH HAS KEPT THE PROJECT SEALED SO TIGHT THAT MOST OF THE AGENCY DOESN'T KNOW WHAT WE'RE DOING. COMPARTMENTALIZATION AND ALL THAT CRAP. APPARENTLY, THE ELEMENTS OF ONI THAT ARE BACKING HIM ARE DOING SO _WITHOUT_ THE AUTHORIZATION OF ONI'S COMMAND - WHO WOULD HAVE GUESSED THERE'S CORRUPTION IN ONI? NOW THE LESS DIRTY PARTS OF THE AGENCY ARE DRAWING FUNDS FROM ANOTHER APPARENT "BLACK HOLE" PROJECT - US. THEY DON'T KNOW WHY WE NEED THE MONEY, AND WE SURE AS HELL CAN'T TELL THEM. RICH IS MOVING FAST TO REALLOCATE OUR REMAINING STOCKPILES, BUT WE'RE STILL GOING TO TURN UP SHORT, AND THAT MEANS ELEMENTS OF THE PROJECT ARE GOING TO HAVE TO BE CUT. WITH THE ALREADY LOW SURVIVAL RATES, THAT'S UNACCEPTABLE.

I THINK IT'S HIGH TIME I DID SOME REAL WORK AROUND HERE. THIS IS AS GOOD A PLACE TO START AS ANY.

**JUNE 9TH, 2543**

**2544**

TRAINING IS GETTING MORE AND MORE INTENSE EACH MONTH, AND THE STRESS IS STARTING TO SHOW. I HAVE TO TRUST LASZLO KNOWS WHAT HE'S DOING, BUT IT'S WORRYING NONETHELESS. IN THE PAST THREE MONTHS, WE'VE HAD A HALF DOZEN BROKEN BONES, CONCUSSIONS, AND CLOSE CALLS WITH WEAPONS; SMALLER INJURIES HAPPEN ALMOST DAILY. LASZLO SAYS THEY'LL BE ABLE TO COPE, SO I'LL GIVE HIM THE BENEFIT OF THE DOUBT (HE WENT THROUGH IT ALL, AND KNOWS MORE ABOUT THEIR SITUATION THAN ME).

THE STRAIN IS ALREADY STARTING TO SHOW, HOWEVER. THE CANDIDATES WITH THE HIGHER GENETIC MATCHES ARE RACING AHEAD WITH EXEMPLARY SCORES, OUTPACING THEIR FELLOWS. THE WEAKER CANDIDATES ARE BEING SLOWLY LEFT BEHIND, AT LEAST PERFORMANCE WISE. THEIR TEAM DYNAMIC IS AS STRONG AS EVER, A FORCE UNTO ITSELF. THEY'RE CLOSER THAN FAMILY; A TIGHT KNIT GROUP THAT WATCHES EACH OTHERS BACK CONSTANTLY. JUST LOOKING AT THEM MAKES ME JEALOUS. THAT KIND OF ASSURANCE WOULD BE MORE HELPFUL THAN I CAN DESCRIBE.

THERE ARE A FEW NOTABLE EXCEPTIONS, OF COURSE, MOST PRESSINGLY BEING GOLD TEAM. [S-347] REALLY DOESN'T FIT IN WITH THEM, AND IT SHOWS. THEY SQUABBLE DAILY, SHE UNDERMINES [S-363]'S AUTHORITY, AND SPENDS MOST OF HER FREE TIME WITH SCARLET TEAM (THAT IN ITSELF SET'S OFF ALARM BELLS - THE BAD SIDE OF THE HEAVY EMPHASIS ON SQUAD DYNAMICS IS THAT IT'S MADE THEM A LOT LESS INCLUSIVE THAN THE CHARLIE ONES, SO INTER-SQUAD MINGLING IS A TOUCHY AFFAIR). IT WILL HOPEFULLY ALL SETTLE DOWN IN A FEW YEARS WHEN THEY GROW OUT OF IT, BUT UNTIL THEN, IT WILL MAKE FOR SOME TRYING TIMES.

**JANUARY 12TH, 2544**

WHEN I WOKE UP THIS MORNING, I DISCOVERED I HAD GOOD NEWS AND BAD NEWS WAITING FOR ME. THE GOOD NEWS: I STILL HAVE A JOB, NO ONE DIED (THAT I KNOW), AND I'M NOT BEING PULLED FROM THE PROJECT. ALSO, NOT BEING EXECUTED. ALWAYS A GOOD THING (AND I SAY THAT IN FULL SERIOUSNESS). BAD NEWS: RICH FOUND OUT ABOUT MY "FUNDRAISING SCHEMES", AND IS _NOT_HAPPY. LET ME CLARIFY: HE'S NOT ANGRY THAT I STOLE MONEY FROM OTHER PROJECTS; HE'S ANGRY BECAUSE I ACCIDENTALLY STOLE SOME FROM ONE OF _HIS_.

NAMES ARE UNIMPORTANT (AND LIKELY TO CAUSE MORE TROUBLE THAN THEY'RE WORTH), BUT SUFFICE TO SAY HE WAS LOOKING THROUGH HIS BUDGET ROSTER AND NOTICED A PRECIPITOUS DROP IN FUNDING FOR ONE OF HIS "TOP SECRET" WAR FIGHTING PROGRAMS. THAT, COUPLED, WITH MY RECENT REPORT ON "AN UNEXPECTED REVENUE AMENDMENT" SET OFF ALARM BELLS IN HIS HEAD, AND HE WAS QUICK TO MAKE THE CONNECTION. HIS MESSAGE WAS SHORT AND TO THE POINT: GET THE MONEY BACK, OR THE WHOLE PROGRAM IS BEING SMASHED AND YOU'RE GETTING DROPPED.

HE'S PROBABLY BLUFFING (WE'RE FOUR YEARS INTO TRAINING - HE'S NOT STUPID ENOUGH TO WASTE ALL THAT MONEY, ESPECIALLY CONSIDERING IT WAS _HIS OWN DAMN IDEA_) BUT I FOLLOWED THE ORDER ANYWAY. ALL FUNDS HAVE BEEN RETURNED TO HIM…OR AT LEAST, THE FUNDS THAT CAME FROM HIM. I NEVER THOUGHT I'D BE THE ONE TO STEAL MONEY FROM THE GOVERNMENT, BUT I GUESS DESPERATE TIMES CALL FOR DESPERATE MEASURES. I'M NOT SHORT SIDING OUR RECRUITS, NO MATTER WHAT. I'VE BEGUN COVERTLY DRAWING FUNDING FROM A DOZEN MORE CIVILIAN BRANCHES (IN SMALLER AMOUNTS THIS TIME - NO NEED TO REPEAT PAST MISTAKES), AND THE MONEY TO REPLACE OUR LOSSES IS ALREADY COMING IN. WE STILL WON'T HAVE ENOUGH FOR THE LATEST AUGMENTS OR - GOD FORBID - MJOLNIR; BUT IT'S BETTER THAN NOTHING.

**DECEMBER 19TH, 2544**

**2545**

WE'VE GOT A HALF DOZEN INTERNAL TRAINING OPERATIONS, PROJECTS, AND EVALUATIONS GOING, AND I FEEL LIKE MY HEAD'S ON A SWIVEL. FOR THE FIRST HALF OF THE DAY, I SPENT MY TIME CALCULATING AUGMENTATION SUCCESS/FAILURE RATES; AFTER THAT, I ASSISTED IN ONE OF THE MARKSMANSHIP LESSONS. WE'VE RARELY HAD SO MUCH GOING ON AT ONCE, AND I HAVE TO ADMIT, IT'S A LITTLE DISTRACTING. I CAN HARDLY BELIEVE I USED TO COPE WITH THE CHAOS OF OPEN BATTLEFIELDS WITHOUT SO MUCH AS A HEADACHE, BUT NOW I CAN'T EVEN KEEP TRACK OF A FEW RANDOM PROGRAMS. MAYBE I'M GETTING OLD.

IT DOESN'T HELP THAT THINGS HAVE BEEN CRASHING IN ON THEMSELVES LATELY. RICH HAS BEEN GETTING ALL OVER ME ABOUT SOME OF MY "LESS THAN LEGAL" EXTRA FUNDRAISING SCHEMES. LASZLO'S CRYPTIC COMMENTS ABOUT HIS PAST ARE CONFUSING AND WORRYING. LYLA'S BIRTHDAY WAS YESTERDAY, A NONE TO WELCOME REMINDER OF EVERYTHING I LEFT BEHIND. AND SOME BASTARD ONI AGENT HAS BEEN "ASSESSING THE CONDITION" OF THE CANDIDATES; SNOOPING AROUND THE FACILITY, LOOKING FOR DIRT ON THE PROJECT (OR ME, OR LAZ, OR DEAN…)

NOT TO MENTION THE FACT THAT THE CANDIDATES ARE STARTING TO ACT OUT (OR, ACT OUT AS MUCH AS A BUNCH OF HIGHLY REGIMENTED SOLDIERS IN TRAINING DO). PEOPLE TALK ABOUT HOW DESTRUCTIVE TEENAGERS CAN BE, AND I CAN BARELY CONTAIN MY TERROR AT WHAT THEY'LL BE LIKE ONCE THEY HIT PUBERTY. THE DIFFERENCE IN STANDARDS BETWEEN THE CHARLIE ONES AND OUR CHARLIE THREES IS BECOMING MORE AND MORE APPARENT. THEY'RE STILL KEEPING PACE (OR CLOSE TO IT - AN AVERAGE OF 93% COMPARATIVE SCORES) WITH THE CHARLIE ONES, STUDY AND SKILL WISE, BUT THEY'RE EXUDING TWO OR THREE TIMES AS MUCH BULLSHIT FACTOR - BEHAVIORAL PROBLEMS, AS THE SPOOKS CALL THEM. JUST THE OTHER DAY, 319 HACKED OUR SECURITY SYSTEM, AND UPLOADED A VIRUS THAT REPLACED THE "TOP SECRET" STAMP ON ALL OVER OUR LETTERS WITH AN EMBLEM OF A GRUNT'S HEAD EXPLODING INTO CONFETTI. IT'S AMUSING, BUT IT'S NOT THE KIND OF EXAMPLE WE WANT THEM TO SET.

**MAY 14TH, 2545**

WE'VE BEEN HAVING SOME SERIOUS TEAMWORK ISSUES WITH 347 AND 363, AND TODAY THINGS FINALLY CAME TO A HEAD. I HAVEN'T PUT ANYTHING DOWN ABOUT IT, BECAUSE (AS I GUESS IS LIKELY APPARENT) I HAVEN'T HAD MUCH TIME TO WRITE ANYTHING, BUT THIS ONE IS DEFINITELY WORTH MENTIONING. FOR THE LAST YEAR OR SO, 347 AND 363 (WHO'VE ALWAYS HAD A TENSE RELATIONSHIP) HAVE BEEN HAVE A COVERT LITTLE POWER STRUGGLE, WITH 347 ATTEMPTING TO USURP HIS POSITION AS SQUAD LEADER. IT'S TRIVIAL AND POINTLESS - OR AT LEAST, I THINK IT IS - BUT THAT ISN'T STOPPING THEM.

SOMETHING LIKE THIS HAS BEEN BREWING, BUT WHAT'S SURPRISING IS THAT IT ACTUALLY CLOSELY MIRRORED A PROBLEM THE CHARLIE ONES HAD - SPECIFICALLY BETWEEN [S-144] AND [S-077]. DURING A TRAINING SKIRMISH, WE PAIRED GOLD AND SCARLET TEAMS AGAINST CRIMSON AND CYAN, GIVING EACH AN OBJECTIVE TO ACCOMPLISH. CRIMSON AND CYAN WERE SUPPOSED TO ESCORT A PACKAGE (PLAYED BY ONE OF THE DI'S) TO AN EZ, AND GOLD AND CRIMSON WERE SUPPOSED TO STOP THEM. 347 CAME UP WITH AN AMBUSH PLAN THAT CAUGHT CRIMSON ALMOST PERFECTLY OFF GUARD, BUT CYAN COUNTERED AND CUT SCARLET OFF FROM GOLD - WITH 347 TRAPPED WITH SCARLET. SCARLET'S OWN LEADER (351) PANICKED AND GOT HIT, SO SHE TOOK CONTROL OF THEM.

AS THIS WAS HAPPENING, HOWEVER, CRIMSON REGROUPED AND MADE A BEELINE FOR THE PICKUP ZONE. 363 GAVE THE ORDER TO PURSUE, BREAKING THE PLAN, AND MANAGED TO GET IN FRONT OF THEM AND DRIVE THEM BACK INTO A CROSSFIRE WITH SCARLET. SCARLET AND GOLD PULLED IT OUT BY THE SKIN OF THEIR TEETH, BUT THE MOMENT THE SHOOTING STOPPED, 347 WENT OFF ON 363 - AND IN THE RESULTING STRUGGLE, THEY BOTH ENDED UP IN PRETTY BAD SHAPE. AFTER IT WAS ALL SAID AND DONE, GOLD RALLIED AROUND 363, WHILE SCARLET MADE A SHOW OF SUPPORTING 347. TO CUT STRAIGHT TO THE POINT, WE HAD NO CHOICE BUT TO SEPARATE THEM, AND, UNDER LASZLO'S DIRECTION, WE PLACED 347 IN SCARLET. THE MOMENT WE DID, 351 OFFERED HER THE ROLE OF SQUAD LEADER. NEEDLESS TO SAY, WE'RE GOING TO BE WATCHING THEM VERY, VERY CLOSELY.

**JUNE 16TH, 2545**

GOLD TEAM IS USUALLY THE BEST BEHAVED OF THE BUNCH (ANTICS WITH 347 NOTWITHSTANDING), BUT WE'VE BEEN HAVING ALL SORTS OF ISSUES WITH THEM LATELY. IT'S STEMMING, NATURALLY, FROM THE RECENT TRANSFER; AFTER WE ROTATED 347 INTO SCARLET TEAM, WE WERE FACED WITH SIX PEOPLE IN SCARLET, AND FOUR IN GOLD. WE DIDN'T WANT TO TAKE ONE OF THE SCARLET MEMBERS AND PUT THEM IN GOLD, HOWEVER, BECAUSE THAT WOULD BE ASKING FOR TROUBLE, SO INSTEAD, WE DECIDED TO SHIFT THE RANKS AROUND. ANYTHING LIKE THIS IS TRICKY, BECAUSE THE SQUADS HAVE ALL BEEN TOGETHER SINCE INDUCTION DAY, BUT IT'S NECESSARY AS WELL. BESIDES THE THRASHING WE'D GET FROM ONI, WE CAN'T AFFORD TO UPSET THE TEAM DYNAMIC BY HAVING UNEVEN SQUADS.

SOME OF THE CANDIDATES ARE MORE INCLUSIVE THAN OTHERS, SO NATURALLY WE LOOKED AT THEM FIRST. ANYONE GOOD AT HANDLING CHANGE OR SOCIABLE WAS FAVORABLE, BUT WE ALSO WANTED SOMEONE RELATIVELY MILD, TO HELP CALM THINGS DOWN. FOR TAKING ONE OUT OF SCARLET, THIS WAS AN EASY PICK; 366 IS BY FAR ONE THE MOST EASYGOING OF THE TEAM, SO WE WERE QUICK TO TAKE HIM AND SEND HIM TO ANOTHER SQUAD. PICKING THE NEXT PERSON WAS A BIT HARDER; IT WAS A CHALLENGE TO FIND AN INCLUSIVE, WELL ADJUSTED SQUAD MEMBER WHO _WASN'T_A SQUAD LEADER. IN THE END, WE DECIDED TO GRAB 333 OUT OF OLIVE AND PLACE HIM IN GOLD (PUTTING 366 INTO HIS OLD SLOT). WE CHOSE HIM FOR A COUPLE OF REASONS; ONE, WHILE HE DOESN'T HANDLE CHANGE WELL, HE'S FAIRLY AMIABLE, AND TWO, HE IS AT A ROUGHLY SIMILAR LEVEL TO 366 IN TERMS OF ABILITY - IT WILL MAKE THE TRANSITION FOR OLIVE MUCH EASIER TO HAVE SOMEONE SIMILARLY TALENTED TAKING 333'S OLD SPOT.

SO, THE GOOD NEWS IS THAT SCARLET AND OLIVE ARE BOTH STILL VERY STABLE. OLIVE IS TAKING THE CHANGE IN STRIDE, AND SCARLET, QUITE FRANKLY, IS ACTUALLY PLEASED - THEY'VE ALWAYS LIKED 347 (SOMETHING I CAN'T QUITE UNDERSTAND). UNFORTUNATELY, SUCH STABILITY ISN'T PRESENT EVERYWHERE. GOLD IS FEELING THE CHANGE QUITE HEAVILY, AND ARE SUFFERING FOR IT. THROUGHOUT TRAINING, THEY'VE ALWAYS BEEN ONE OF THE BEST SQUADS, AND HAVE CONSISTENTLY RANKED HIGHEST IN TEAM COHESION DUE TO 363'S LEADERSHIP. THEY HAD THEIR DYNAMIC DOWN TO AN EXACT SCIENCE, HOWEVER, AND 333 IS A WRENCH IN THE WORKS FOR THEM. WHILE THEY'VE MAINTAINED THE SAME COMBAT SCORES, THEY'VE DROPPED IN THE OVERALL STANDINGS TO 9TH, THANKS TO A DROP IN THEIR COORDINATION STATISTICS. THEY'RE GOING TO HAVE AN UPHILL BATTLE TO GET THEIR TEAM COORDINATED AGAIN, AND WHILE I'M QUITE CERTAIN 363 WILL BE ABLE TO DO IT-HE HAS AN AFFINITY FOR BUILDING TEAMS - I'M NOT SURE HOW LONG IT WILL TAKE.

**JULY 6TH, 2545**

**2546**

WE FINALLY HIT PHASE THREE OF THE TRAINING TODAY, AND THINGS ARE LOOKING UP. THE CANDIDATES ARE SURGING AHEAD, AND WE ARE IDENTIFYING OUR TOP INDIVIDUALS WITH MUCH GREATER CERTAINTY. SOME ARE SURPRISES, OTHERS ARE EASIER TO EXPECT. THEY'RE ALL DOING WELL - GOLD IN PARTICULAR HAS SHOWN MARKED IMPROVEMENT IN THE LAST FEW MONTHS, FINALLY RECOVERING FROM THE TRANSFER A YEAR AGO - AND THE STAFF SEEMS PLEASED WITH THEIR PROGRESS. IT'S ALL GOOD NEWS, IN GENERAL; THE NEXT STAGE OF TRAINING WILL LAST ONLY TWO YEARS, BUT WILL BE CRITICAL TO THEIR DEVELOPMENT. HAVING THEM ENTER AT THE TOP OF THEIR GAME WILL BE CRITICAL. THEIR RELATIVE SKILL TO THE ORIGINAL CLASS I'S IS HOVERING AT 90% FOR THE GROUP, AND AT 100% FOR A FEW SELECT INDIVIDUALS - MUCH BETTER THAN ANTICIPATED BY ONI.

THE 100% CANDIDATES, ARE, BY AN LARGE, MOSTLY THOSE WITH GENETIC PROFILES EQUAL OR VERY NEARLY EQUAL THE ORIGINALS. 338 AND 343, WHO HAVE CONSISTENTLY PROVEN THEMSELVES TO BE OUR BEST OPERATORS, ARE MATCHING THE ORIGINAL II'S ALMOST IMPOSSIBLY CLOSE. THREE OTHERS - 341, 309, AND 324 - ARE FOLLOWING A HAIR BEHIND, NIPPING AT THEIR HEELS. THEIR PARTICULAR SPECIALTIES ARE SHINING THROUGH CLEARLY NOW; 338 HAS EVOLVED INTO THE BEST SNIPER IN THE GROUP, KEEPING PACE WITH HOW [S-058] DID AT HIS AGE; 343, 309, AND 324 ARE EXPERTS IN CLOSE QUARTERS, WITH 343 A BIT FARTHER AHEAD BECAUSE OF MORE VARIED SKILLS, AND 341 IS PROVING TO BE LIKELY THE MOST ADAPTABLE OF THEM ALL - THOUGH NOT AS POLISHED IN ANY ONE FIELD AS ANY OF THEM, HE'S GOOD WITH PRACTICALLY ANYTHING.

MOST OF OUR OTHER STRONG CANDIDATES - 311, 319, 363, 347, 351, 356, 332, 329, 314, 349, TO JUST NAME A FEW - ARE DOING STRONG AS WELL, PERFECTING A VARIED ARRAY OF TALENTS. THE "LESSER" CANDIDATES ARE NOTABLY LESS SPECIALIZED, BUT THEY'RE STILL PASSABLE IN ALL OF THE NECESSARY FIELDS. THE DIFFERENCES WILL LIKELY WIDEN ONCE THE NEW TRAINING REGIME GOES INTO FULL GEAR, BUT THE DI'S ARE PREDICTING THAT THE WEAKER CANDIDATES WILL KEEP UP OUT OF RAW DETERMINATION - WHILE IT'S TRUE THAT A LOT OF THE CANDIDATES ARE OF VASTLY LOWER GENETIC QUALITY THAN THE ORIGINAL CHARLIE ONES, THEY ALL HAVE THE SAME FIERCE WILLPOWER.

**JULY 8TH, 2546**

I'VE BEEN FEELING INCREASINGLY LIKE THE PROJECT IS UNDER ASSAULT FROM THE OUTSIDE, EVER SINCE THE MONEY RAID THREE YEARS AGO. I FEEL CRAZY EVEN WRITING IT (LET ALONE SAYING IT ALOUD - I DON'T WANT TO THINK ABOUT WHAT THE DI'S WOULD SAY IF THEY HEARD ME), BUT I'M FEELING MORE AND MORE LIKE I'M BEHIND ENEMY LINES. WHEN I FIRST ARRIVED HERE…IT WASN'T COMFORTING (FOR DAMN SURE) BUT AT LEAST I FELT LIKE I WAS ON THE SAME SIDE AS MOST OF THE PEOPLE AROUND ME (EXCEPT FOR THE SPOOKS - NEVER TRUSTED THEM).

NOW THINGS FEEL LIKE A CONSTANT GAME OF CHESS; I MAKE A MOVE, AND MY UNSEEN OPPONENTS MAKE ONE TO COUNTER IT. I DON'T KNOW WHO THEY ARE - THE ONI ELEMENTS BACKING THIS THING, THEIR NAVSPECWAR CONTACTS, RICH'S LAPDOGS, OR GOD KNOWS WHO ELSE - BUT THERE IS DEFINITELY SOMEONE ELSE WORKING AGAINST ME. SUBTLE, LITTLE THINGS; LISTENING DEVICES IN MY ROOM WITHOUT REASON, OBSCURE DATA INTRUSIONS, PSEUDO SPY STUFF LIKE THAT. I DON'T KNOW WHAT THEY WANT, OR WHY THEY WANT IT, BUT I CAN'T BE SURE OF ANYTHING.

DID THE OTHER PROGRAM'S GO THROUGH THIS KIND OF THING? I CAN'T BE THE ONLY ONE. HALSEY LIKELY DID, BUT A LOT OF THE HAZING PROBABLY WAS A RESULT OF HER CIVILIAN STATUS. THE CHARLIE TWO'S WERE RUN THROUGH CLEANLY AND EFFICIENTLY; I DOUBT THEY DID. AND SPARTAN-III…WELL, I KNOW IT EXISTS, BUT BEYOND THAT, IT'S A MYSTERY. ACKERSON IS RUNNING IT, SO IT'S GOT HEAVY HITTERS TO BACK IT UP, BUT ALSO A LOT OF ENEMIES. MAYBE I SHOULDN'T HAVE TRIED SO HARD TO PISS ONI OFF IN THE EARLY DAYS. THINGS MIGHT BE SIMPLER NOW.

**NOVEMBER 13TH, 2546**

WE HAD TO PERFORM ONE OF OUR FIRST MAJOR "CRACKDOWNS" THIS WEEK, AND I'VE BEEN FEELING A LITTLE PUT OFF BY THE WHOLE AFFAIR SINCE IT STARTED. SOMETIMES I FEEL LIKE THE ONLY REASON I KEEP THIS JOURNAL IS SO THAT I HAVE A PLACE TO COMPLAIN TO, AND THAT DOESN'T ALWAYS SIT VERY WELL WITH ME. IT'S ALL OLD NEWS, BUT I'LL SAY IT AGAIN FOR CLARITY; I JOINED THE MILITARY SO THAT I COULD DO MY PART TO HELP HUMANITY, FIRST AT FIGHTING THE INSURRECTION, THEN THE COVENANT. I NEVER PLANNED ON SPENDING SIX YEARS OF MY LIFE COOPED UP UNDERGROUND - AND AS AMAZING AS THESE KIDS ARE, AS MUCH AS I KNOW WHAT WE'RE DOING IS NECESSARY, AS MUCH AS I TRY TO KEEP MY OWN EGO AND DESIRES IN CHECK, ITS HARD TO TAKE SOMETIMES.

THIS ALL PROBABLY SOUNDS LIKE NONSENSE WITHOUT THE PROPER BACKGROUND, SO I SHOULD PROBABLY SHELL SOME OF THAT OUT. A FEW WEEKS AGO, GOSSIP GOT AROUND THAT SOME OF OUR CANDIDATES MIGHT NOT HAVE BEEN AS FOCUSED ON THEIR TRAINING AS THEY SHOULD BE: AKA, INVOLVED ROMANTICALLY WITH EACH OTHER IN SOME WAY. A LITTLE DIGGING LED TO A BRIEF INVESTIGATION, AND IT PRETTY MUCH BOILED DOWN TO AS FOLLOWS: 363, LEADER OF GOLD TEAM, WAS INVOLVED WITH ONE OF HIS SQUAD MATES, 374. NOT EXACTLY UNHEARD OF OR UNEXPECTED; PUT 50 PUBESCENT KIDS IN CLOSE PROXIMITY TO EACH OTHER FOR A FEW YEARS, EVEN TIGHTLY DISCIPLINED ONES, AND YOU'LL HAVE SOME SPARKS. THE PREVIOUS CLASSES ALL HAD THEM; BLACK, GREY, AND BLUE WERE ALL INVOLVED IN SOME LEVEL OF SCANDAL FROM CLASS I, TO JUST NAME A FEW.

WE WERE PREPARED, THUS, AND LASZLO STEPPED IN TO SORT THINGS OUT. LET 363 AND 374 KNOW THAT WHILE THEIR FEELINGS WERE UNDERSTANDABLE, THEY HAD TO MAKE SURE TO KEEP A CLEAR HEAD, STAY DISCIPLINED, ETC. SOUNDED LIKE HE HAD PERSONAL EXPERIENCE IN THE WHOLE MATTER (THOUGH I MIGHT BE PROJECTING, AS I DON'T REALLY KNOW HIM WELL ENOUGH TO SAY). ALL IN ALL, THINGS WORKED OUT JUST FINE, RELATIVELY; THERE SHOULDN'T BE ANY CAUSE FOR CONCERN. YET DESPITE THIS, I'M STILL ANNOYED AT ONI, AND ANGRY AT MYSELF FOR BEING ANNOYED. TRAINING KIDS TO BE SOLDIERS IS BAD ENOUGH…BUT MANAGING THEIR RELATIONSHIPS FOR THEM? THIS IS WHAT WE'RE REDUCED TO? I DON'T WANT TO INDULGE IN SELF-RIGHTEOUSNESS, BECAUSE I KNOW THAT ONCE I DO, IT'LL BE WAY TOO HARD TO LET GO OF…BUT I WONDER HOW IT ALL ENDED UP LIKE THIS SOMETIMES. I REALLY DO.

**DECEMBER 11TH, 2546**

**2547**

I RECEIVED A LETTER TODAY FROM LYLA. I THOUGHT IT WAS A MISTAKE AT FIRST, BECAUSE THERE WAS NO WAY THAT SHE COULD HAVE KNOWN MY LOCATION, BUT APPARENTLY ADMIRAL RICH HAD IT FORWARDED TO ME ON HIS PERSONAL ORDERS. THAT ALONE WAS SURPRISING. BUT IT WASN'T THE ONLY UNEXPECTED TWIST. IT WAS A SHOCK TO HEAR FROM HER AFTER ALL THESE YEARS, BUT THAT WAS HARDLY THE BIGGEST SURPRISE.

THE LETTER IS A WILL.

THERE WAS NO WAY I COULD HAVE KNOWN, BUT SHE WAS ON SKOPJE TWO MONTHS AGO WHEN IT FELL. SHE WAS ON THE SURFACE WHEN IT WAS GLASSED; COMPANY RECORDS, WHICH I ACCESSED WITH THE HELP OF SOME OF ONI'S INFILTRATION SOFTWARE, REVEAL SHE WAS WORKING UNTIL THE LAST MOMENT, SCRAMBLING TO SEND AS MUCH DATA ON HER WEAPONS PROJECTS AS SHE COULD TO THEIR ORBITING TRANSPORT BEFORE THE COVENANT REACHED HER. I CAN'T BEGIN TO DESCRIBE THE SURREAL FEELINGS I FELT WHEN I READ ABOUT IT. IT'S BEEN YEARS, BUT SOMEHOW…I DON'T KNOW WHAT I THOUGHT, BUT IT DEFINITELY WAS NEVER THAT THINGS WOULD END UP LIKE THIS.

THE MESSAGE IS A SHORT ONE, JUST A LIST OF A FEW SMALL TRINKETS SHE WANTED TO BE SENT TO ME IN THE EVENT OF HER DEATH. A FEW MEMENTOS OF THE TRIP, A STACK OF HOLO-STILLS - EMPTY, POINTLESS THINGS. BUT THERE'S ALSO AN ATTACHMENT, A TEXT FILE WITHOUT A NAME, ACCOMPANYING IT. I HAVE NO IDEA WHAT IT IS, THOUGH A DOZEN OBVIOUS SUGGESTIONS SPRING TO MIND. I'M OVERWHELMED WITH CURIOSITY.

BUT I CAN'T OPEN IT.

**JUNE 28TH, 2547**

**_PROJECT: ARES INTERNAL MESSAGE_**

**_(FROM: LT ADRIAN YORK; TO: COL GRIFFIN STANDOFF; SUBJECT: TONE THINGS DOWN)_**

I KNOW HOW MUCH YOU HATE COMPLAINING, BUT SOMETHING HAS GOT TO BE DONE ABOUT LIMA-108. HE MAY THINK THE RECRUITS CAN TAKE IT, BUT HE'S PUSHING THEM TOO HARD, TOO FAST. THEY'RE GOING TO SNAP, AND THEN THEY'LL BE USELESS FOR THE PROGRAM AND FOR THE WAR. HE SEEMS TO THINK THAT THEY'RE EQUAL TO THE OLD CLASS I AND IIS, AND HE'S BADLY MISTAKEN ON BOTH COUNTS. THEY'RE GOOD, REALLY, REALLY GOOD, BUT NOT THAT GOOD. ALMOST NO ONE IS. THERES A FEW EXCEPTIONS, A FEW LIKE CHARLIE HOTEL WOULD HAVE PICKED, BUT THEY'RE THE EXCEPTION RATHER THAN THE RULE. SOMETHING NEEDS TO BE DONE TO STOP HIM. I KNOW HE THINKS HES DOING WHAT'S BEST, BUT HE'S GOING TO MAKE THINGS WORSE. BELIEVE ME. I DID MY TIME ON III AND I KNOW WHAT KIDS LIKE THESE CAN TAKE. IT'S TOO MUCH. MAKE HIM TONE THINGS DOWN, OR I WILL.

**_PROJECT: ARES INTERNAL MESSAGE_**

**_(FROM: CPT LASZLO KATONA; TO: COL GRIFFIN STANDOFF; SUBJECT: PROJECT ARES)_**

SIR, IT'S ME AGAIN. TRAINING IS RUNNING SMOOTHLY NOW. I APOLOGIZE FOR MY MISTAKE OF PUSHING THE RECRUITS TOO FAR; I GUESS SOME PART OF ME JUST ASSUMED THAT "IF THEY'RE TOUGH ENOUGH, THEY WON'T FAIL WHAT'S YET TO COME". THAT JUDGEMENT WAS IN ERROR. SO YOU CAN GET THAT PSYCHE EVALUATION PANEL OFF OF ME NOW. THERE'S NO NEED FOR A PREMATURELY EARLY EXAMINATION.

ANYWAY, TRAINING IS RUNNING SMOOTHLY AND THEY'RE ALL DOING WELL. WHAT WORRIES ME IS THE AUGMENTATION PROCEDURES COMING UP LATER NEXT YEAR. WHY DO WE HAVE TO RELY ON SUCH OUTDATED PROCEDURES? ME TRAINING THESE RECRUITS RISKS BEING ALL FOR NOTHING IF WE DON'T USE THE NEW ADVANCED ONES; NEW SPARTANS WON'T HELP IF THEY'RE DEAD OR IRREPAIRABLY WOUNDED. I UNDERWENT THOSE PROCEDURES, SO I KNOW WHAT I'M TALKING ABOUT. I WAS CLOSER THAN YOU'D THINK TO DYING (CARDIAC VOLUME INCREASE ISN'T SOMETHING TO JOKE ABOUT, AND THAT'S COMING FROM ME, THE CLOWN OF THE II PROGRAM). THESE ARE MY MEN, AND I REFUSE TO LET THEM ALL DIE BECAUSE OF ONI BULLSHIT.

AND NOT JUST THE AUGMENTATIONS; WHAT'S THIS CRAP ABOUT "SEMI-POWERED INFILTRATION (SPI) ARMOR"? I TESTED IT BACK IN 2532, AND IT'S _NOT_ SPARTAN-CLASS GEAR; AT MOST, IT'S ONI TRYING TO CUT THE COST OF EVERYTHING AT THE EXPENSE OF QUALITY. THEY WON'T SURVIVE FOR LONG OUT THERE WITHOUT PROPER EQUIPMENT, ESPECIALLY IF IT'S TRUE WHAT I HEAR THAT THEY'LL ALL BE SPLIT UP TEAM-WISE AND SPREAD THROUGHOUT THE UNSC COMMAND CHAIN ("TO PREVENT ALL UNITS FROM PERISHING AT ONCE"). USING MY ACCESS TO THE PROGRAM'S FILES, I FOUND THAT YOU ALL WERE NEGOTIATING A DEAL WITH RKD, THE DEVELOPERS OF THE HAYABUSA SUIT. IT HURTS THAT WE DIDN'T PURSUE THAT - SURE, IT LOOKS KINDA RIDICULOUS AND YOU SEE LITTLE WITH THE TINY VISOR, BUT AT LEAST IT'S AN EXCELLENT AND FULLY FUNCTIONAL SUIT. THE SPI IS JUST A FANCY ODST ARMOR WITH CHAMELEON CAPABILITIES THAT HARDLY WORK.

AND PLEASE, SIR, DON'T JUST REPLY WITH A "THERE'S NO MONEY AVAILABLE"; I WANT A REASON FOR WHY THAT'S SO. YOU'D THINK THERE WERE OTHER SPARTAN PROGRAMS GOING ON SIMULTANEOUSLY THAT SUCK UP ALL THE FUNDING LIKE A SPONGE. RICH AND THE REST OF ONI WANTS THEIR MAGICAL BULLET - BUT IT WON'T WORK IF THAT BULLET CAN'T ACTUALLY HIT THE ENEMY.

PS: HAVE SOMEBODY MONITOR [341]. I CAN'T PUT MY FINGER ON IT, BUT HE SEEMS TO BE HOMESICK, OR MAYBE JUST ADVENTUROUS, I DON'T KNOW; HE DOES SEEM LIKE HE ISN'T AS DEDICATED TO THE PROGRAM AS HE SHOULD. MIGHT BE MY IMAGINATION, OF COURSE, BUT FOR ONCE I'D LIKE NOT TO BE LAZY ABOUT THE MATTER AND BE A STEP AHEAD. JUST IN CASE.

**_GRIFFIN STANDOFF'S JOURNAL_**

SOME UPSTART DI SENT ME A COMMUNIQUE TWO DAYS AGO, REQUESTING A REPRIMAND OF LASZLO - BECAUSE HE WAS, AND I QUOTE, "PUSHING [THE RECRUITS] TO HARD, TO FAST". NOT A FAN OF THE GUY (HE THINKS HE'S THE SHIT BECAUSE HE WORKED ON BETA COMPANY, DESPITE THE WILDLY DIFFERENT CIRCUMSTANCES), AND I WAS HALFWAY INTO A RESPONSE TELLING HIM WHERE TO SHOVE HIS OPINION WHEN RICH'S ONI BACKERS INTERCEPTED THE MESSAGE AND PUT HIM UP FOR IMMEDIATE PSYCHIATRIC REVIEW, IN PREPARATION FOR IMMEDIATELY DROPPING HIM FROM THE PROGRAM.

MY FRIEND ADMIRAL RICH GAVE ME SOME BACKUP ON THIS ONE (I'M FULLY CONVINCED HE'S PLAYING BOTH ME AND HIS BACKERS OFF EACH OTHER), AND WE MANAGED TO KEEP THEM FROM DROPPING LAZ FROM THE PROGRAM. THE PANEL OF SHRINKS COULDN'T BE AVOIDED, THOUGH, AND NOW I'VE GOT LASZLO BREATHING DOWN MY NECK TOO. I'M REALLY NOT CUT OUT FOR ALL THIS FAUX-POLITICAL BULLSHIT. I'VE SENT A MESSAGE TO LASZLO EXPLAINING THE PROBLEM, AND HOPEFULLY HE'LL LISTEN. I'VE GOT FEW ENOUGH FRIENDS HERE ALREADY. IF I LOSE ANOTHER ONE, IT MAKES LIFE JUST THAT MUCH HARDER.

OH, AND DEAN INFORMS ME THAT 363 AND 347 JUST GOT THEMSELVES INTO A FIGHT…AGAIN. THE BEHAVIORAL PROBLEMS IN THE WHOLE UNIT ARE GROWING WORSE BY THE DAY, BUT THOSE TWO ARE GETTING TO BE A REAL HAZARD. DEAN AND THREE OTHER DI'S MANAGED TO CONTAIN THEIR SQUABBLE WITHOUT LASZLO'S HELP, BUT THE PROBLEM IS STILL THERE. TRANSFERRING THEM TWO YEARS AGO APPARENTLY HASN'T DONE ANY GOOD.

**SEPTEMBER 5TH, 2547**

**_PROJECT: ARES INTERNAL MESSAGE_**

**_(FROM: COL GRIFFIN STANDOFF; TO: CPT LASZLO KATONA; SUBJECT: PROJECT ARES)_**

I'M SORRY ABOUT THE PYSCHE PANEL, BUT BELIEVE ME, IT WASN'T MY IDEA. ONI'S BEEN WATCHING US CLOSELY, BUT I HADN'T REALIZED HOW CLOSE UNTIL THEY INTERCEPTED A MESSAGE FROM ONE OF MY DIS AND WENT OVER MY HEAD. HE WAS THREATENING TO TAKE MATTERS INTO HIS OWN HANDS, BUT SECTION III GOT THERE FIRST. IT WAS A HELL OF A TIME KEEPING THEM FROM DROPPING YOU FROM THE PROGRAM. THEY REALLY DON'T TRUST YOU. I'D BE VERY, VERY INTERESTED TO FIND OUT WHY.

I'M GLAD TO HEAR THE TRAINING IS GOING WELL, BUT YOU'RE CONCERNS, UNFORTUNAELY, ARE OUT OF MY CONTROL. AS MUCH AS YOU HATE IT, THE PROBLEM INEVITABLY COMES DOWN TO FUNDING. I'VE DONE EVERYTHING I CAN - AND I MEAN EVERYTHING; STRIPMINING REBEL BANK ACCOUNTS, FALSE CHARITY CAUSES, EVEN BORDERLINE FRAUD - TO GET THE MONEY, AND I SIMPLY CAN'T. BELIEVE ME, I UNDERSTAND THE RISKS OF THE PROCEDURES AND HAVE MY OWN TORMENT'S ABOUT THEM, MY OWN GUILT. YOU MAY BE THE ONE TRAINING THEM, BUT I WAS ONE WHO HAD TO SELECT THEM, AND APPROVE THE ORDER TO HAVE SOME OF THEM KIDNAPPED.

AND BELIEVE ME, I'VE TRIED EVERYTHING POSSIBLE TO GET THEM OUTFITTED AS PROPER SPARTANS. BUT THE MONEY SIMPLY ISN'T THERE. RKD WANTED TOO MUCH FOR THE SUITS, AND LORD KNOWS MJOLNIR IS TOO EXPENSIVE. THE CURRENT SUIT COSTS MORE THAN AN ENTIRE BATTLEGROUP AND IT'S HARD TO HIDE THAT KIND OF MONEY WHEN THE WAR IS PRACTICALLY ON ERINDANUS'S DOORSTEP. WE JUST LOST THE ENTIRE STALLION AND NAPOLEON SYSTEMS LAST YEAR, AND THE COVENANT AREN'T SLOWING DOWN. SPI ISN'T GOOD - BUT IT'S ALL WE HAVE. THE MONEY HAS ALL BUT DRIED UP. MOST OF OUR DIS, MEDICS, AND SCIENTISTS ARE WORKING PRO BONO, AND THOSE THAT AREN'T HAVE PAYCHECKS THE SIZE OF A FRY COOKS. IT'S COME DOWN TO EITHER THE AUGMENTS OR HAYABUSA, AND THAT CHOICE IS ALL TO CLEAR.

THERES MORE HERE AT WORK THAN YOU KNOW, AND I SUSPECT THERE EVEN MORE THAN I DO. ONI'S OPERATIONS ARE A BLACK HOLE, WITH NO ANSWERS FOR ANYONE. I HAVEN'T BEEN ABLE TO CONFIRM ANY OTHER HIGH PRIORITY SIERRA PROGRAMS STILL BEING ACTIVE, BUT THEIR EXISTENCE WOULDN'T SURPRISE ME. I'VE HEARD THE STANDARD WHISPERS OF A THIRD SIERRA THREE CLASS, AND YOU KNOW HOW ACKERSON LOVE TO SUCK UP FUNDING. ONI DROPPED ME INTO THIS JOB FOR REASONS I MAY NEVER TOTALLY GRASP, BUT I'M THE ONE KEEPING IT AFLOAT NOW. I CAN'T PERFORM MIRACLES.

AS FOR [S-341], I'LL HAVE A LITTLE CHAT WITH HIM AND ORDER DELTA JULIET TO KEEP A CLOSER EYE ON HIM. WE ALWAYS KNEW WE MIGHT GET ONE OR TWO CANDIDATES WHO WERE A LITTLE MORE "INDEPENDENT" THAN THE REST. IF ANYTHING HAPPENS TO MAKE YOUR SUSPICIONS GROW, KEEP A CLOSE EYE ON HIM. AUGMENTATION IS COMING UP, AND THERES SOME EVIDENCE THAT [S-023], [S-122], [S-141], [S-052] AND [S-003] (ANOTHER EXAMPLE OF ONI'S INABILITY TO KEEP THEIR TAGS STRAIGHT) MIGHT HAVE HAD THEIR MENTAL PROCESSES DAMAGED BY IT. THE AUGMENTATION PROCEDURES ARE NEVER AS LINEAR AS WE THINK; THERE ARE ALWAYS UNEXPECTED SIDE AFFECTS.

P.S. ONE OF THE DI'S MENTIONED THAT THE RIVALRY BETWEEN TAN AND GOLD MAY BE GETTING OUT OF HAND. COULD YOU LOOK INTO THIS, IF YOU HAVE ENOUGH TIME? I DON'T WANT ANOTHER [S-144]/[S-077] INCIDENT HAPPENING DURING OUR TRAINING. PARALLEL TRAINING REGIMES COULD VERY WELL PRODUCE PARALELL PROBLEMS.

**_PROJECT: ARES INTERNAL MESSAGE_**

**_(FROM: CPT LASZLO KATONA; TO: COL GRIFFIN STANDOFF; SUBJECT: PROJECT ARES)_**

I GUESS SO ABOUT THE SPOOKS BEING MISTRUSTFUL; IF ONI DISCOVERS THAT YOU LOOK IN AN UNEXPECTED DIRECTION THEY START CHECKING IF YOU'RE MESSED UP IN THE HEAD. THEN AGAIN, I MIGHT BE A BIT HARDER TO PREDICT THAN OTHER IIs, WHAT WITH ME BEING ONE OF THE LEAST INDOCTRINATED OF US ALL. GUESS I SHOULD'VE EXPECTED RICH TO ACT THAT WAY. I'M AFRAID I CAN'T DISCUSS WITH YOU WHY THEY DON'T TRUST ME (IN THE CASE THEY'D INTERCEPT THIS MESSAGE TOO), I'M SORRY. EVEN MORE SO SINCE YOU'RE ONE OF THE FEW OFFICERS I ACTUALLY LIKE. I MEAN, NOT IN THAT WAY - THERE'S SOME GOOD-LOOKING NURSES STATIONED NOT FAR FROM MY QUARTERS FOR THAT...ER, SORRY, ACCIDENTALLY TURNED BACK TO MY OLD SELF. WON'T HAPPEN AGAIN. I HOPE. MOVING ALONG...

IT STILL PISSES ME OFF, THAT ONI WON'T GIVE WHAT WE REALLY NEED, WHETHER IT BE BETTER PROCEDURES OR SUITS. AND IT MAKES ME WISH EVEN MORE THAT I WASN'T AN ONI AGENT. BUT MOST OF ALL, IT REMINDS ME OF THE OTHER IIs - MY BROTHERS AND SISTERS. AT MOMENTS LIKE THIS, WHEN I TRAIN THESE RECRUITS OR PONDER ON THEIR FATES, I KEEP THINKING ABOUT THEM. HOW I MISS THEM. [012]. [062]. [051]. CHARLIE HOTEL. FOXTROT MIKE. HELL, I EVEN MISS THE BASTARD [144]. AND HE SPENT MUCH OF HIS TIME FORCING HIMSELF NOT TO BEAT MY FACE IN. I KEEP SEEING ALL OF THEIR FACES IN THESE RECRUITS; EVERY TIME [338] MAKES AN EXTRAORDINARY HEADSHOT, I THINK OF [058]. EVERY TIME I LOOK AT [343] I SEE [087]'S FIREY WILLPOWER IN HER EYES. AND THEN I START THINKING ABOUT THE ONES WHO NEVER MADE IT. I DON'T WANT TO GO THROUGH THAT AGAIN. SURELY YOU CAN UNDERSTAND THAT? BUT I AGREE, IF WE CAN DO ANYTHING, FIX THE PROCEDURES; WE'LL JUST HAVE TO HAVE FAITH THAT THEY CAN WORK IN THOSE SUITS.|ENCRYPTED SECTION: BUT I MIGHT CHECK BACK WITH RKD, THEIR COMPLETED PROTOTYPES. OFF THE GRID, OFF COURSE. MAYBE WE COULD ARRANGE FOR BETTER EQUIPMENT FOR AT LEAST ONE TEAM.|ENCRYPTED SECTION: END|

YES, I REMEMBER ACKERSON; HE AND DOC'S ALWAYS COMPETED FOR FUNDING. WOULDN'T SURPRISE ME IF HE HAS SOMETHING RUNNING. BUT IT DOESN'T MAKE SENSE THAT HE'D HAVE TWO ONGOING PROGRAMS AT ONCE ON HIS OWN; HE'S THE TYPE TO PUT EVERY EFFORT TO MAKE ONE PROJECT PERFECT (OR AT LEAST PERFECT ENOUGH FOR HIS SUPERIORS SO HE GETS HIS MONEY, THE SNAKE). CAN'T BELIEVE I'D SAY THIS, BUT MAYBE IT'D HAVE BEEN GOOD TO HAVE HIM ON THE PROJECT - SOMEHOW HE ALWAYS SEEM TO GET THE MONEY REGARDLESS OF THE PROJECTS HE NEED THEM FOR, UNLESS THEY CONFLICT DIRECTLY WITH HALSEY'S. BTW, IT'S A SHAME YOU CAN'T DO MIRACLES; IT'D BE VERY CONVENIENT :D

I'LL DO WHAT I CAN for [341]. HE'S ONE OF OUR PRECIOUS "CHOSEN" TOO, YOU KNOW. AT LEAST HE DOESN'T SEEM AS WEAK-MINDED AS [312] (I'VE ALREADY UNDERTAKEN EFFORTS TO DO SOMETHING ABOUT HIM, JUST SO HE DOESN'T SNAP IN THE FIELD; I'LL INFORM YOU IF I NEED MORE ASSETS FOR IT).

I ALWAYS JUST SAW THE GOLD/TAN RIVALRY LIKE FRIENDLY COMPETITION, BUT MAYBE YOU'RE RIGHT. I'LL TALK TO THEM ONE BY ONE TO CALM THEM DOWN.|ENCRYPTED SECTION: MAYBE, IF WE GET OUR HANDS ON BETTER SUITS, WE SHOULD LET THE COMPETITION FOR TOP HONORS AT THE END OF TRAINING DETERMINE WHICH TEAM GETS THEM? I DON'T LIKE THAT SUGGESTION MYSELF, AS I DON'T TAKE FAVORITES, BUT I'M 100% SURE THAT WE CAN'T AQUIRE MORE ARMORS THAN THAT, SO WE'LL HAVE TO DETERMINE IT SOMEHOW. OR MAYBE I SHOULDN'T EXPECT YOU TO BE IN ON THIS WITH ME? OH, WELL, I'LL TRY IT WHETHER I HAVE YOUR APPROVAL OR NOT, SO I MAY AS WELL ASK YOU TO HELP ME. TAKE IT AS MY WAY OF SAYING "I TRUST YOU, SIR".|ENCRYPTED SECTION: END|

**_PROJECT: ARES INTERNAL MESSAGE_**

**_(FROM: COL GRIFFIN STANDOF; TO: CPT LASZLO KATONA; SUBJECT: PROJECT ARES)_**

YOU'RE ONLY TOO RIGHT ABOUT THE SPOOKS BEING QUICK TO LOOK FOR A PROBLEM WHERE THERE IS NONE, BUT THERES NOT MUCH WE CAN DO EXCEPT TRY TO KEEP A LOW PROFILE. I'VE DONE MY BEST TO MAKE IT CLEAR TO THE DI'S TO LET YOU WORK, BUT WHO KNOWS IF IT WILL TURN OUT SUCCESSFUL. AS FOR RICH, YOU HAVE MUCH MORE EXPERIENCE WITH HIM THAN I DO, SO I'LL TAKE YOUR WORD FOR IT. AS FOR THE TRUST PROBLEMS, I'M SURE IT WILL MAKE FOR A VERY INTERESTING STORY OVER DRINKS SOMETIME DOWN THE ROAD IN THE FUTURE (THAT IS, IF WE HAVE A FUTURE).|ENCRYPTED SECTION: STILL KEEP YOUR EYES ON THE DI'S, THOUGH, NO MATTER WHAT HAPPENS-I'M CONVINCED ONI HAS THEIR RANKS INFILTRATED COMPLETELY.|ENCRYPTED SECTION: END|

AS FOR ONI'S EQUIPMENT PROBLEMS, I HAVE TO AGREE. THE AUGMENTATION PROCEDURES FOR THE SIERRA THREES ARE A HUNDRED TIMES MORE EFFECTIVE, BUT ONI ABSOLUTELY REFUSES TO SPRING FOR THE COST. IT'S SHORTSIDED AND DAMNED FOOLISH - FROM A FISCAL POINT OF VIEW, THEY'RE ACTUALLY GOING TO LOSE MONEY WITH THE OLDER PROCEDURES, BECAUSE OF THE INEVITABLE LOSS OF CANDIDATES - BUT THEY WON'T BUDGE. I'LL DO MY BEST, BUT I'M AFRAID ME MAY HAVE TO START PLANNING FOR THE WORST. BY MY PROJECTIONS, WE MAY BE FACING UP TO 50% LOSSES (MORE OPTIMISTIC PROJECTIONS PLACE LOSSES BETWEEN 35-45%, BUT AS LONG AS WE'RE BEING CYNICAL, WE MIGHT AS WELL GO ALL THE WAY), AND IT IS POSSIBLE ONI WON'T BE ABLE TO FUND EVEN THAT. UNLESS WE RECEIVE SOME SORT OF MAJOR WINDFALL, VERY SOON, WE'RE OUT OF LUCK. I DON'T LIKE IT ANY MORE THAN YOU DO, BUT WITHOUT AUGMENTATIONS, THEY'LL BE EVEN LESS LIKELY TO SURVIVE.

AS FOR THE SPI SUITS, I'M WONDERING IF WE SHOULD START TRAINING ON THEM SOONER RATHER THAN LATER. THE SIERRA THREES HAVE SHOWN GOOD RESULTS WITH EARLY EXPOSURE TO THEIR ARMOR SYSTEMS, AND THEY'VE BEEN PROVEN TO BE HIGHLY EFFECTIVE - WHEN THEY'RE NOT BEING WASTED ON SUICIDE MISSIONS. SPI IS CHEAP, AND WE'LL BE NEEDING THE SUITS ANYWAY, SO I SHOULD BE ABLE TO PROCURE THEM IMMEDIATELY, IF YOU SO CHOOSE. IN THE END, I'LL DEFER THE CHOICE TO YOU; YOU'RE THE EXPERT, AND I'M JUST THE GRUNT WHO GOT STUCK IN THE COMMAND SEAT.|ENCRYPTED SECTION: CODE: ANY SORT OF ARMOR YOU CAN GET WOULD BE CRITICAL. LIKE YOU SAID, KEEP IT OFF THE GRID, BUT IF A CHANCE PRESENTS ITSELF, GO FOR IT - EVEN IF THERE ARE RISKS. IF ONI FINDS OUT, I CAN PROBABLY GET AWAY WITH IT - I'VE BEEN BREAKING THEIR RULES SINCE THE START OF THE PROJECT - AND THOSE SPARTANS NEED THE GEAR TOO MUCH TO PASS IT UP. IF WORSTS COMES TO WORST, I CAN ALWAYS TAKE THE FALL. I CAN LIVE WITH A DEAD END CAREER, BUT I CAN'T LIVE WITH SENDING OUT MY TROOPS UNPREPARED.|ENCRYPTED SECTION: END|

AS FOR ACKERSON, DID THEY REALLY? I DIDN'T REALIZE HALSEY AND HIM COMPETED THAT FAR BACK. I NEVER MET EITHER OF THEM, BUT I'VE HEARD PLENTY OF STORIES SINCE JOINING THE PROGRAM. SOME OF THE OLDER DI'S ARE VERY CHATTY. IF HE'S AS GOOD AT GATHERING FUNDS AS YOU SAY HE IS, THEN IT WOULD HAVE BEEN NICE TO HAVE HIM ON THE PROJECT - BUT AT THE SAME TIME, I DON'T THINK I COULD LIVE WITH ANOTHER SPOOK IN MY LIFE. I'VE GOT ENOUGH ALREADY, THANK YOU VERY MUCH. AS FOR TWO SPARTAN PROGRAMS, I CAN'T BE SURE. I KNOW FOR A FACT HE'S IN CHARGE OF SIERRA THREE (HIGH LEVEL CLASSIFICATIONS ARE GREAT, IF SOMEWHAT DIFFICULT TO USE FOR A NEANDERTHAL LIKE ME), WHICH WOULD FILL THE ONE PROJECT QUOTA, BUT I'VE ALSO FOUND TRACES OF SOMETHING REFFERED TO AS "HEADHUNTER". ONI'S PROJECT ROSTER, IS, LIKE I'VE MENTIONED, A BLACK HOLE, SO I HAVEN'T BEEN ABLE TO FIND ANYTHING ELSE, (AND LIKELY NEVER WILL). |ENCRYPTED SECTION: CODE: IF YOU COULD SHED ANY LIGHT ON THE SITUATION, I'D BE VERY INTERESTED.|ENCRYPTED SECTION: END|

THANK YOU FOR HELPING OUT WITH [S-341], THEN. I'M ALSO CONCERNED ABOUT [S-312], BUT THERES LITTLE I CAN DO. I READ THE LATEST PSYCHE REPORT AND IT DOESN'T LOOK GOOD. HE'S GOT THE SAME ATTACHMENT PROBLEMS AS SOME OF THE OTHERS ([S-338] AND [S-343] ARE PARTICULAR OFFENDERS, THOUGH [S-343] IS CONSIDERABLY HARDER TO READ) BUT THEY ARE MORE LOCALIZED, MORE EXTREME, AND POTENTIALLY MORE DANGEROUS. I DON'T KNOW WHAT RESOURCES I'LL BE ABLE TO PROVIDE, BUT I'LL DO EVERYTHING I CAN.

ITS NOT THAT I THINK THE EXACT PARRALLEL WILL HAPPEN IF WE DON'T DO SOMETHING ABOUT TAN AND GOLD'S RIVARLY - I HARDLY EXPECT THE TWO TEAMS TO GET INTO A FISTFIGHT LIKE [S-144] AND [S-077] DID - BUT I AM WORRIED ABOUT AFTER TRAINING. MISTRUST LIKE THAT CAN FESTER AND GROW, IF LEFT ALONE. WE AREN'T PLANNING TO DEPLOY THEM ALL TOGETHER, BUT IF THEY HAPPEN TO RUN INTO EACH OTHER ON THE FIELD, THEY'LL NEED TO BE ABLE TO COOPERATE. |ENCRYPTED SECTION: I DON'T LIKE THE IDEA OF PITTING THE RECRUITS AGAINST EACH OTHER EITHER FOR THE RIGHT TO USE ARMOR (AND HAVE BETTER CHANCES OF SURVIVAL), BUT I CAN'T ARGUE WITH IT'S LOGIC. THE BEST TEAM SHOULD DEFINITELY RECEIVE THE BEST GEAR (IF WE CAN GET IT, THAT IS). WORK YOUR CONTACTS, AND SEE WHAT YOU CAN DO. I'M NOT GOING TO TAKE A PASSIVE DENIAL STRATEGY OUT OF THIS; IF WE'RE DOING IT, I'M IN. IF THESE KIDS CAN GO THROUGH HELL FOR MY SAKE, I CAN RETURN THE FAVOR A LITTLE BIT.|ENCRYPTED SECTION: END|

**_PROJECT: ARES INTERNAL MESSAGE_**

**_(FROM: CPT LASZLO KATONA; TO: COL GRIFFIN STANDOFF; SUBJECT: PROJECT ARES)_**

DON'T WORRY ABOUT THE FUTURE OR THE WAR, NOT YET ANYWAY. WE HAVE SOMETHING THE COVENANT DON'T HAVE - SPARTANs. WE'LL MAKE IT THROUGH THIS, AND 500 YEARS FROM NOW, ALL THIS WILL BE TOLD TO A HALF-SLEEPING CLASS OF SCHOOL CHILDREN BY A BORING HISTORY TEACHER. SO ALL WE CAN DO IS HAVE FAITH. AND IF YOU WANT TO HEAR THAT STORY, YOU BETTER MAKE SURE YOU HAVE SOME CREDS TO BUY US DRINKS (A SPARTAN'S SALARY IS ABOUT AS LARGE AS A BONOBO CHIMPANZEE'S). |ENCRYPTED SECTION: OH, I WILL, NO NEED TO WORRY. I'VE GOT A CAREFUL EYE ON THE WHOLE ASSORTMENT OF DI'S.|ENCRYPTED SECTION: END|

ON THE AUGMENTATIONS, I USUALLY PREFER NOT TO BE CYNICAL (I'D DARE SAY I WAS THE MOST OPTIMISTIC OF THE CHARLIE ONES), BUT THIS IS A SUBJECT WHERE I MAKE AN EXCEPTION. I'LL DO MY BEST TOO, PULL ANY FAVORS I HAVE AND CHECK MY CONTACTS TO SEE WHAT I CAN DO, BUT IT'D NEED NOTHING SHORT OF A MIRACLE TO PAY OFF. ANYWAY, I HAVE A FEELING WE NEED TO DROP THIS PARTICULAR TOPIC NOW, ONE OF THE DIs DROPPED A SUBTLE HINT AT LUNCH BREAK EARLIER TODAY THAT IT'S A SENSITIVE TOPIC; WE SHOULDN'T ANGER THE SPOOKS TOO BADLY THIS LATE INTO WAR, AIGHT? |ENCRYPTED SECTION: BUT MAN, SOME OF THESE DAYS I REALLY WISH I GOT TO KICK SOME OF THOSE GUYS IN THE GROIN, GROUND POUNDER STYLE. JUST ONCE, AND I'D BE HAPPY.|ENCRYPTED SECTION: END|

YEAH, GET THE SPI SUITS AS SOON AS POSSIBLE; IF THEY'RE GONNA HAVE TO USE THEM, WE MIGHT AS WELL MAKE SURE THEY BECOME ONE WITH IT BY GIVING THEM SOME MONTHS OF IN-SUIT TRAINING. RICH WOULDN'T HAVE ANY REASON TO COMPLAIN, IN FACT HE'LL PROBABLY ASSUME THAT IT'LL SPEED UP THE PROJECT'S COMPLETION. AND THANKS FOR PLACING YOUR FAITH IN ME LIKE THIS; YOU MAY BE A GRUNT, BUT YOU'RE AN OKAY GRUNT. NOT TO MENTION IT'S A PLUS THAT YOU'RE NOT CARRYING METHANE REBREATHERS UNLIKE OUR ALIEN FRIENDS. |ENCRYPTED SECTION: OOH, ANOTHER RULEBREAKER. FASCINATING. BUT I PREFER TO GET AWAY WITH RULEBREAKING (NOT THAT WE'RE TECHNICALLY BREAKING ANY RULES - THEY HAVEN'T SPECIFICALLY FORBIDDEN US FROM CHECKING UP RKD'S ARMOR SYSTEMS. I PREFER TO CALL IT "STRETCHING THE RULES"), SO I'LL BE CAREFUL. I'VE ALREADY MANAGED TO LEARN SOME THINGS THOUGH; TURNS OUT RKD DISASSEMBLED AT LEAST ONE OF THEIR PREVIOUS PROTOTYPES FOR PARTS, PROBABLY ONE OR TWO MORE TOO. BUT THEY HAVE A CONFERENCE BOOKED WITH THE ORDNANCE COMMITTEE. IF IT ISN'T TO SHOW OFF THEIR LATEST PROTOTYPE, I'LL EAT MY MJOLNIR ARMOR. I'VE PULLED FAVORS WITHIN HIGHCOM TO GET A COUPLE OF CONTACTS INTO THE COMMITTEE BEFORE THAT CONFERENCE, SO WITH ANY LUCK WE CAN PROCURE IT. BUT THAT'S JUST ONE SUIT. I'LL KEEP MY EYES OPEN FOR OTHER OPPORTUNITIES (AS SOON AS I'VE FOUND A WAY TO GET PAST KALMIYA WITHOUT HER NOTICING, I'LL BE ABLE TO RECOVER DATA ON PROJECT MJOLNIR - EASIER SAID THAN DONE AS SHE WAS MADE FROM HALSEY'S BRAIN).|ENCRYPTED SECTION: END|

TRUE, I WOULDN'T WANT ACKERSON IN MY LIFE EITHER; HE'S ABOUT AS SPOOKY AS SPOOKS COME. HARD TO BELIEVE HE WAS ONCE A GROUND POUNDER LIKE YOU. AS FOR HEADHUNTER, THAT'S SOMETHING I DIDN'T KNOW ABOUT (NOR AM I MEANT TO KNOW, I'LL BET). |ENCRYPTED SECTION: SADLY, I HAVE FEWER CLEARANCES THAN YOU, AND MY CONTACTS IN BETA-5 AREN'T CHATTY. HEADHUNTER HAS BEEN MENTIONED A COUPLE TIMES THOUGH, AS HAS AN ENIGMATIC FELLA KNOWN AS DRACULA THAT ACKERSON DOESN'T SEEM TO KNOW ABOUT. THEN THERE'S SOMETHING CALLED NOBLE (SEEMS TO BE CONNECTED TO SPECIAL WARFARE COMMMAND - IT HAS FAR LESS CLEARANCES THAN ONI UNITS, SO MAYBE YOU COULD TAKE A PEEK?), WHICH MAY ALSO BE CONNECTED TO HEADHUNTER SOMEHOW. THEN THERE'S SOMEBODY CALLED AMBROSE. WOULD YOU HAPPEN TO KNOW MORE ABOUT HIM THAN ME? I HAVE A FEELING HE'S NOT REALLY PART OF LOGISTICS COMMAND AS HIS RECORD SAYS HE IS.|ENCRYPTED SECTION: END|

343 IS A FIREY ONE, TRUE (LITERALLY SOMETIMES - I CAUGHT HER THE OTHER DAY PICKPOCKETING A LIGHTER OFF ONE OF THE DIs). BUT I THINK SHE WON'T BE ANY REAL TROUBLE. BUT I'M KEEPING EYES AND EARS OPEN AS ALWAYS, JUST IN CASE. THAT'S ABOUT THE ONLY THING ALL THESE YEARS IN COVERT OPS HAVE TAUGHT ME; TO ALWAYS BE VIGILANT.

YEAH, COOPERATION BETWEEN THE DIFFERENT TEAMS ONCE THEY GET INTO THE FIELD IS GOING TO BE VITAL. WITH THEIR LACKING EQUIPMENT, THEY'LL NEED IT EVEN MORE THAN ME AND THE OTHER CHARLIE ONES. |ENCRYPTED SECTION: THANKS FOR BACKING ME. I WAS AFRAID FOR A MOMENT I WOULD HAVE ALL THE EXCITEMENT FOR MYSELF. OH, WELL, WE'LL DO OUR BEST RIGHT? EVEN IF WE DO GET CAUGHT AND END OUR DAYS POLISHING SHOES ON THE STREETS OF A BACKWATER PLANET LIKE MINISTER. OR, WELL, YOU'D END UP LIKE THAT; I'M A SUPERSOLDIER, SO I'M PRETTY VALUABLE. AT MOST, I GUESS I'D END UP WITH A CAT-2 COMMISSION AND START PUSHING PAPERS FOR THE REST OF MY LIFE.|ENCRYPTED SECTION: END|

**_PROJECT: ARES INTERNAL MESSAGE_**

**_(FROM: COL GRIFFIN STANDOFF; TO: CPT LASZLO KATONA; SUBJECT: PROJECT ARES)_**

I ADMIRE YOUR OPTIMISM, CAPTAIN. I WORRY EVERY DAY ABOUT THIS DAMN WAR, ABOUT THE COVENANT. HOW SOON BEFORE THEY'RE AT REACH, AT EARTH? HOW SOON UNTIL WE'VE REALLY GOT OUR BACK AGAINST THE WALL? I CAN'T ANSWER THOSE QUESTIONS, AND IT KEEPS ME UP AT NIGHT. THINKING ABOUT THE FUTURE, AFTER THE WAR, IS A LUXURY I DON'T HAVE. I GUESS WHEN YOU'VE BEEN THROUGH AS MUCH AS YOU HAVE, YOU TEND TO VIEW THE WORLD FROM A BRIGHTER POINT OF VIEW. OR MAYBE YOU'RE JUST NATURALLY CHEERY? (THOUGH YOU'VE ALSO GOT TO WONDER, DID SCHOOLCHILDREN 500 YEARS AGO EVER DREAM SOMETHING LIKE THIS COULD HAPPEN?). I KNOW NO ONE FIFTY YEARS AGO COULD. AND WHAT DO YOU KNOW OF BORED SCHOOLCHILRDEN? I THOUGHT YOU SIERRA'S WERE ALL MODEL STUDENTS!

MAYBE YOU'RE GOOD NOT TO GET TOO CYNICAL, BUT THESE DAYS I JUST CAN'T HELP IT. IF IT'S NOT THE INTEL REPORTS ON OUR LATEST COLONY LOST, IT'S THE DAMN DREAMS I KEEP HAVING OF THE TRAINEES WHEN I FIRST PICKED THEM. UNSURPRISINGLY, MY DREAMS CONVIENTELY IGNORE ALL THE EASY CHOICES - TAKING THE KIDS FROM ABUSIVE FAMILIES OR HELLHOLE ORPHANAGES - AND CONTINOUSLY REPLAY THE IMAGES OF THE HAPPY, SMILING FAMILIES. I KNOW YOU CHARLIE ONES ARE ALL DEVOTED TO HALSEY, BUT I HAVE TO ADMIT THAT I HATE HER. I WISH SHE'D NEVER DREAMT UP THE IDEA OF THIS PROGRAM, SO THEY WOULDN'T HAVE CHOSEN ME. IT'S SELFISH AND TERRIBLE, BUT I CAN'T HELP IT. I GUESS I'LL LEAVE OPTIMISM FOR YOU, AND CYNICISM FOR ME. |ENCRYPTED SECTION: THE GROIN, SON? I MEAN, I KNOW A DI WHOSE MOONLIGHTING AS A SPOOK WHO WOULD DESERVE IT, BUT YOU CALL YOURSELF A GROUNDPOUNDER? THAT'S A KID'S PUNCH, MY BOY. GO FOR THE JAW. IT AIN'T BUILT FOR LATERAL IMPACT.|ENCRYPTED SECTION: END|

AS FOR GETTING THE SUITS SOONER RATHER THAN LATER, I'M ALREADY ON IT. RICH IS BEING A LITTLE FINICKY, BUT HE SHOULD COME THROUGH. IT'S NOT LIKE IT'S SOME UNEXPECTED EXPENSE; WE ALREADY KNEW AND ACCOUNTED FOR THE PRICE OF THE SUITS (WHICH, REALLY, IS PRACTICALLY NONEXISTENT). HOPEFULLY, THE ORDER SHOULD BE IN WITHIN THE NEXT FEW WEEKS. |ENCRYPTED SECTION: I PREFER TO CALL IT AS IT IS AND JUST ADMIT TO IT BEING RULEBREAKING WITHOUT ANY LOOPHOLES, BUT I GUESS YOU'RE TECHNICALLY RIGHT. EVEN SO, IT'S NOT THE FIRST TIME I'VE GONE AGAINST ONI ON THIS PROJECT. DID YOU KNOW THAT WHEN I WAS INITIALLY INTERVIEWING THE CANDIDATES, THEY FORBID ME FROM TAKING ANY OF THEM ON THE SPOT, EVEN IF THEY WERE IN CRITICAL DANGER? DAMNED BURCREATIC BASTARDS. YOU CAN GUESS HOW LONG THAT RULE LASTED. AS FOR THE RKD PROTOTYPE DISPLAY CONFERENCE, I'LL LOOK FORWARD TO YOUR REPORT ON THAT. EVEN IF WE CAN ONLY GET ONE SUIT, IT'S STILL BETTER THAN NOTHING. IT MIGHT PRESENT A CHALLENGE FOR A TEAM DYNAMIC, WITH ONE MEMBER GETTING AN ADVANCED SUIT AND THE REST BEING STUCK WITH SPI, BUT IT'S BETTER THAN NOTHING. AS FOR KALMIYA BEING CLONED FROM HALSEY'S BRAIN, HOW DOES THAT ONE WORK? I THOUGHT THE AI PROCESS DESTROYED THE HOST BRAIN?|ENCRYPTED SECTION: END|

HARD TO BELIEVE INDEED. ONE OF MY OLD CO'S SERVED WITH ACKERSON BACK DURING TREBUCHET, SAID HE WAS AS GOOD OF A SOLDIER AS IT COMES. I WONDER WHAT CHANGED. LORD KNOWS HE'S NOT A GROUNDPOUNDER ANYMORE, IN ANY SENSE OF THE WORD.|ENCRYPTED SECTION: I DID SOME DIGGING, AND FOUND A FEW INTERESTING DETAILS ABOUT HEADHUNTER AND THE LIKE. THAT BETA-5 CLUE HELPED A LOT - SOMETHING LIKE THAT IS A GREAT WAY TO REFINE A SEARCH. AT ANY RATE, I FOUND A FEW REPORTS ON HEADHUNTER, AND WHILE THEY DIDN'T MENTION ORIGIN, THEY DID LIST AN EXTREMELY IMPRESSIVE CSV. IF I WERE TO TAKE A WILD GUESS, I'D SAY SIERRAS. PROBLEM IS, I DON'T HAVE A CLUE WHERE THEY CAME FROM. EVERYTHING ELSE IS LOCKED DOWN TOO TIGHT FOR ME. AS FOR DRACULA, I CAME UP EMPTY. THERE WERE A FEW FILES FLOATING AROUND, BUT THEY'D ALL BEEN WIPED. I COULDN'T EVEN BEGIN TO TRACK THAT DOWN. NOBLE, THOUGH, IS A DIFFERENT STORY. YOU'RE RIGHT ABOUT THEM BEING NAVSPECWAR; THEIR CLASSIFICATIONS REALLY AREN'T AS GOOD. I MANAGED TO SNAG A UNIT ROSTER, AND THEY'RE DEFINITELY SIERRAS. THEIR TAGS ARE HIGHER THAN NORMAL, THOUGH, SO THEY'RE EITHER S-III'S OR SOMETHING DIFFERENT ENTIRELY. AGAIN, NO INFORMATION ON THEIR ORIGINS, JUST A ROSTER AND A CSV. AND JUST TO HUMOR YOU, I DID A SEARCH ON AMBROSE AND MANAGED TO DIG SOME STUFF UP ON HIM TOO. NOT MUCH, BUT HIS NAME IS DEFINITELY "KURT AMBROSE" AND HE'S GOT A FILE THAT'S SO REDACTED IT LOOKS LIKE SOMEONE SPILLED A BUCKET OF PAINT ON IT.|ENCRYPTED SECTION: END|

THE LIGHTER DOESN'T SURPRISE ME. DID YOU KNOW [S-343] WAS ACTUALLY PLAYING WITH TWO OF THEM WHEN I INTERVIEWED HER? THE WAY SHE WAS LIGHTING THINGS UP, I WAS AFRAID SHE'D BURN DOWN THE WHOLE BUILDING. AS FOR VIGILANCE FOR SIGNS OF SPOOK TREACHERY AND COOPERATION'S IMPORTANCE IN THE FIELD, I HAVE TO AGREE ON BOTH COUNTS. |ENCRYPTED SECTION: I DID SHOE SHINING LONG ENOUGH TO BE ABLE TO DEAL WITH IT, THOUGH, SHOULD WE END UP CAUGHT AND DEMOTED. THE REAL QUESTION IS WHETHER YOU COULD DEAL WITH BEING STUCK AT A DESK.|ENCRYPTED SECTION: END|

**_PROJECT: ARES INTERNAL MESSAGE_**

**_(FROM: CPT LASZLO KATONA; TO: COL GRIFFIN STANDOFF; SUBJECT: PROJECT ARES)_**

MY, AREN'T YOU LITTLE MISS SUNSHINE? LET ME ASK YOU THIS; WOULD YOU RATHER DIE CONSTANTLY WORRIED, UNABLE TO SLEEP BECAUSE YOU'RE AFRAID OF WHAT WILL HAPPEN, OR DIE WITH A SMILE ON YOUR FACE, KNOWING AND ACCEPTING THAT YOU'VE DONE YOUR BEST TO HAVE A GOOD LIFE, REGARDLESS OF HOW SHORT THAT LIFE WAS? THINK ON THAT - YOU MIGHT START AGREEING WITH ME THEN. (WELL, SCIENCE FICTION WAS SPREADING LIKE WILDFIRE AT THAT TIME, I IMAGINE THERE'D BE DREAMING AMONG THOSE MIDDLE SCHOOLERS). AND YES, SIERRAS ARE MODEL STUDENTS. DOESN'T MEAN EVERYBODY WANTS TO ACT LIKE IT (AKA ME). THOUGH I CAN HONESTLY SAY I DO MY BEST AT BEING HUMBLE, IT'S HARD NOT TO STICK OUT WHEN YOU HAVE 168 IQ AND LEARNED HOW TO BREAK INTO YOUR PA'S PASSWORD-PROTECTED TITANIUM SAFE AT AGE FIVE.

PUT IT BEHIND YOU; THERE'S NOTHING YOU CAN DO NOW ABOUT TAKING THE KIDS, JUST AS I COULDN'T PREVENT MY OWN KIDNAPPING. BUT WHO SAID ALL CHARLIE ONES ARE ALL DEVOTED TO HALSEY? I KNOW THAT I'M NOT A FAN. MAYBE IT'S NOT AS BAD NOW AS AFTER MY CONSCRIPTION, BUT I CAN'T SAY I REALLY LIKE HER EVEN NOW. I DO REGRET BREAKING HER NOSE AND LIP AND GIVING HER BLACK EYES EARLY IN TRAINING, THOUGH. |ENCRYPTED SECTION: AS FOR MY HISTORY WITH HALSEY (I IMAGINE YOU'RE PRETTY CURIOUS NOW), HERE'S THE DEAL; MUM TAUGHT HER AT UNIVERSITY (YSIONRIS JEROMI WASN'T THE ONLY ONE TO TEACH HER, SEE), AND THE TWO WERE ON FRIENDLY TERMS, SO WHEN SHE CAME OVER ONE DAY, I NATURALLY TREATED HER AS WELL AS ANY OTHER FRIEND OF MY MUM'S. I IMAGINE YOU CAN GUESS WHAT I FELT WHEN I WAS ABDUCTED A FEW WEEKS LATER AND THEN LEARNED IT WAS THAT VERY SAME PERSON RESPONSIBLE FOR IT. SO, ONE DAY, I ENTERED HER OFFICE ALONE AND SIMPLY WENT BERSERK, UNTIL MENDEZ AND TWO DIS ARRIVED AND SUBDUED ME. I'D ELABORATE FURTHER ON THE SUBJECT IF I WAS PROUD OF IT, WHICH I'M NOT.|ENCRYPTED SECTION: END|

GOOD, I JUST RECEIVED A NOTICE OF THE IMPENDING SHIPMENT. THE RECRUITS ARE EXCITED ABOUT HAVING THEIR IN-SUIT TRAINING SO SOON, THOUGH I'M UNSURE IF IT'S BECAUSE THEY LIKE THE IDEA OF RECEIVING ADVANCED TECHNOLOGY, OR JUST BECAUSE IT'LL LET THEM USE GREATER AMOUNT OF FORCE IN THE EXCERCISES. I'LL HAZARD A GUESS AND SAY IT'S A LITTLE OF BOTH. HOW ABOUT YOU? |ENCRYPTED SECTION: JESUS, IT'S A GOOD THING YOU DEFIED THAT ORDER AND TOOK THEM ANYWAY; GOD KNOWS, THERE'S FEW ENOUGH CANDIDATES AS IT IS. AS FOR KALMIYA, I IMAGINE HALSEY FLASH-CLONED HER BRAIN AND CREATED THE AI THAT WAY. IT'S POSSIBLE TO USE, BUT IN MOST CASES INEFFICIENT, AS MOST BRAINS DON'T SURVIVE THE PROCESS LONG ENOUGH TO CREATE AIS FROM THEM - NOT TO MENTION, IT'S FANTASTICALLY ILLEGAL. BY THE WAY, I GOT PAST HER SOMETIME AGO, AND I MANAGED TO TAG A FEW SUITS GOING TO ALGOLIS. I'LL TRY TO KEEP A TAB ON THOSE, THEY COULD PROVE USEFUL.|ENCRYPTED SECTION: END|

WITH ACKERSON TURNING FROM HONEST SOLDIER TO A SPOOK, MAYBE IT STARTED LIKE YOU? GREW COMFORTABLE WITH THE NEW ROLE OVER TIME? IF SO, YOU SHOULD WATCH OUT SO YOU DON'T END UP THE SAME. OF COURSE, HE COULD'VE BEEN LIKE THAT FROM THE START, BUT DIDN'T GET TO SHOW IT UNTIL HIS ONI ENLISTMENT. I FIND IT CURIOUS THAT HE'S STILL MARRIED - HE DOESN'T SEEM THE TYPE WHO WOULD TAKE DAYS OFF TO BE WITH THE WIFE OR HESITATE TO ASSIGN FAMILY MEMBERS TO SUICIDE MISSIONS. SPEAKING OF WHICH, I NEVER ASKED, YOU GOT FAMILY YOURSELF? |ENCRYPTED SECTION: IF IT'S RELATED TO S-III, I THINK HEADHUNTER IS SIERRAS TOO. AND NOBLE SEEMS INTERESTING, I'LL HAVE TO KEEP IT IN MIND (THERE'S A CHANCE WE COULD FUNNEL ONE OR TWO OF OUR SPARTANS TO IT - RATHER THAT THAN HAVING THEM END UP AS ANOTHER GENERATION OF RICH'S LEONIDAN GRIM REAPERS). AND THANKS FOR THE INTEL ON AMBROSE. IT'S A FUNNY THING; I ONCE KNEW SOMEBODY NAMED KURT, A CHARLIE ONE LIKE MYSELF. GOOD MAN, A LITTLE LIKE ME IN HIS RESPECT FOR NON-SPARTAN PERSONNEL AND HABIT TO MAKE FRIENDS. WISH HE STILL LIVED.|ENCRYPTED SECTION: END|

YEAH, I KNEW 343 WAS OBSESSED WITH PRYOMANIA EVEN THAT EARLY ON, READ IT IN HER PSYCHE PROFILE. I NOTIFIED THE PSYCHOLOGISTS ABOUT THIS RECENT INCIDENT. OF COURSE, IF WE LET THEM DECIDE WHO ARE FIT FOR DUTY OR NOT, WE'D BE DOWN TO A DOZEN CANDIDATES. I WON'T CHOP HER FROM THE ROSTER FOR THAT - SHE HASN'T CAUSED ANY INCIDENTS SO FAR, NO REASON SHE WOULD NOW. |ENCRYPTED SECTION: YEAH, THAT ANSWER'S SIMPLE; I COULDN'T. I'M NOT SITTING ON MY ASS AND LETTING OTHERS FIGHT FOR ME. WHICH IS WHY I'LL NEVER HAVE A NORMAL FAMILY, I GUESS. NO KISSING A WIFE GOODBYE BEFORE HEADING OFF TO WORK, TEACHING THE FIRST KID TO WALK OR WRITING A WILL FOR MY CHILDREN ON MY DEATHBED FOR ME. I GUESS I'LL HAVE TO SETTLE FOR HOPING FOR A REAL FUNERAL WITH AN ACTUAL TOMBSTONE.|ENCRYPTED SECTION: END|

**_PROJECT: ARES INTERNAL MESSAGE_**

**_(FROM: COL GRIFFIN STANDOFF; TO: CPT LASZLO KATONA; SUBJECT: PROJECT ARES)_**

WELL, YOU'VE GOT A BIT OF A POINT THERE ABOUT STAYING UP-BEAT, BUT TRY AS I MIGHT, YOUR OPTIMISM ELUDES ME. I'VE BEEN DOING THIS JOB FOR ALMOST NINE YEARS, AND I'LL TELL YOU THAT WHEN I JOINED THE MILITARY, I NEVER PLANNED ON RECRUITING LITTLE KIDS TO BE HIGH-TECH CHILD SOLDIERS, AND NEVER EXPECTED TO SEE THE LIST OF PEOPLE AND PLANETS I KNOW SHRINK DAILY AS THEY WERE KILLED AND DESTROYED. IT WEIGHS ON ME, HOWEVER MUCH I WANT IT NOT TOO. AND I GUESS YOU'RE RIGHT ABOUT THE PEOPLE BACK THEN. THEY DID LOVE THEIR SCIENCE FICTION. AND DIDN'T YOU KNOW IQ SCORES ARE COMPLETELY OVERRATED? ALL THAT PLACEMENT VARIATION AND CRAP.

I KNOW, MENTALLY, THAT YOU'RE RIGHT ABOUT PUTTING THE KIDNAPPINGS BEHIND ME, BUT IT'S STILL DIFFICULT. THIS JOB ISN'T HELPING ANY. AUGMENTATIONS ARE GETTING CLOSER AND CLOSER AND WE ALL KNOW THE PROBABILITIES. I LOOK AT THESE KIDS AND WONDER WHO WILL BE LEFT IN A YEARS TIME, OR TWO. IT'S DIFFICULT. I KNOW YOU STRUGGLE WITH IT TOO, SO I DON'T HAVE TO REMIND YOU, BUT IT'S DIFFERENT SOMEHOW WHEN YOU WERE THE ONE WHO SELECTED THEM.

AND I'M EXCITED ABOUT THE SUITS, JUST TO HOPE IT'LL IMPROVE SURVIVABILITY. THE SIERRA THREES WHO DID LIVE PRACTICE WITH THEIR SPI BEFORE DEPLOYMENT ALL SEEMED TO HAVE DONE BETTER ONCE LIVE INTO THE FIELD, SO AT LEAST OUR KIDS WILL HAVE SOMETHING GOING FOR THEM, EVEN IF FATE HAS TURNED AGAINST THEM. |ENCRYPTED SECTION: YES, I RECKON IT WAS GOOD THAT I TOOK THEM WHEN I DID. NOT LIKE I HAD ANY CHOICE, THOUGH. WHATEVER ONI SAID, I COULDN'T JUST SIT AROUND AND WATCH THEM DIE, COULD I? AND BY SUITS, YOU DON'T MEAN MJOLNIR, DO YOU? WE CAN'T BE THAT LUCKY, NOT AFTER ALL THIS, CAN WE? |ENCRYPTED SECTION: END|

AS FOR ACKERSON, I CAN HONESTLY SAY I DON'T KNOW. MAYBE HE WAS A GOOD SOLDIER WHO GOT ROPED INTO THE WRONG CROWD; MAYBE HE WAS A BAD ONE ALL ALONG AND JUST NEEDED AN EXCUSE. AS FOR HIS WIFE, I COULDN'T SPECULATE. IN RESPONSE TO BOTH QUESTIONS, I'M NOT MARRIED AND THE MILITARY HAS TAKEN ANY CHANCE OF THAT. |ENCRYPTED SECTION: I CAN'T ARGUE WITH YOUR LOGIC, WHAT WITH HEADHUNTER'S CLOSE LINK TO BETA-5 AND S-III; THEY'VE GOT TO BE SIERRAS. AS FOR NOBLE, I'LL SEE WHAT I CAN DIG UP. MORE BACKUP FOR OUR KIDS CAN NEVER BE A BAD THING. I'M SORRY TO REMIND YOU ABOUT KURT, THOUGH. HE WENT DOWN DURING DEEP SPACE RECON, DIDN'T HE? TERRIBLE WASTE, IF YOU ASK ME.|ENCRYPTED SECTION: END|

AS FOR 343, I'M INCLINED TO AGREE. WHATEVER INSTABILITIES SHE OR ANY OF THE OTHERS HAVE, WE CAN'T AFFORD TO AXE ANYONE ELSE FROM THE LIST (AND IF WE WERE TO CUT HER, WE'D HAVE TO ACKNOWLEDGE THE FACT THAT MOST OF THESE KIDS AREN'T CUT OUT FOR THIS - 347'S DANGEROUSLY SELF ABSORBED, 341'S INSUBORDINATE, 332 IS A FLIRT (OF ALL THINGS), AND A HALF DOZEN OTHERS HAVE DEPRESSION, ANGER, AND TRAUMATIC DISORDERS FROM THE LOSS OF THEIR FAMILIES).|ENCRYPTED SECTION: YOU'RE TELLING ME YOU THINK YOU'LL NEVER, EVER HAVE A LIFE BEYOND CONFLICT, AND YOU CALL ME THE CYNICAL ONE? I CAN'T IMAGINE A LIFE BEYOND THE WAR; YOU CAN'T IMAGINE ONE WITHOUT WAR AT ALL.|ENCRYPTED SECTION: END|

**_PROJECT: ARES INTERNAL MESSAGE_**

**_(FROM: CPT LASZLO KATONA; TO: COL GRIFFIN STANDOFF; SUBJECT: PROJECT ARES)_**

LIFE NEVER GOES AS EXPECTED; IF YOU BUILD UP LONG-RANGE EXPECTATIONS OF WHAT LIFE WILL BE, YOU WILL BE DISAPPOINTED. ONLY WAY TO AVOID THIS? GET RID OF EXPECTATIONS, AND JUST GO WITH THE FLOW AT ALL TIMES. NOW, ABOUT THE IQ THING, NOW THAT MY PHISOPICAL STATEMENT OF THE WEEK IS OUT OF THE WAY; JUST BECAUSE IT'S OVERRATED IT DOESN'T MEAN IT DOESN'T HAVE ITS USES. 'SIDES, I WAS JUST POINTING I OUT I'VE GOT A FAIR BIT OF INTELLIGENCE (HARD TO BELIEVE, I KNOW). |ENCRYPTED SECTION: IF IT'S ANY CONSOLATION WITH YOUR GUILT, YOU'RE LUCKY NOT TO BE WITH COVERT OPS; THE MISSIONS I HAVE TO TAKE CARE OF ARE SOMETIMES DIRTIER THAN ANY COVENANT ATTACK. FOR EXAMPLE, I'M CERTAIN THAT YOU'VE NEVER HAD TO HOLD CHILDREN HOSTAGE SIMPLY TO MAKE SURE THEIR INNIE PARENT(S) AGREE TO A TRUCE WITH THE UNSC. OR KILL ASTRONAVIGATORS THAT JUST BLESSED YOUR ARRIVAL AND BEGGED YOU TO SAVE THEM, JUST TO MAKE SURE THEY DON'T FALL INTO ENEMY HANDS.|ENCRYPTED SECTION: END|

OH, AND MOST OF THE CANDIDATEST HAVE HAD A COUPLE SESSIONS WITH THE SUITS NOW. MOST OF THEM WERE IN GOOD SPIRITS - NOT 343, THOUGH. SHE DECIDED TO CALL IT GARBAGE AFTER MAKING A DENT IN 347's HARNESS WITH HER UNARMED HAND. BUT COME TO THINK OF IT, IT MIGHT'VE JUST BEEN BECAUSE SHE BROKE HER KNUCKLE IN DOING SO. SHE HAD TO SKIP TWO HOURS OF TRAINING TO FIX IT (TO 347's DELIGHT). OTHERWISE IT WENT WELL; I'M PROUD OF HOW FAST THEY'RE ADAPTING TO IT (AND I CAN'T WAIT TO SEE 341, 311, 319, 327 AND 303 FROM CRIMSON TEAM STARTING A SCAVENGER HUNT FOR TECH TO UPGRADE THE SUITS WITH: THEY'RE SO ADORABLE - MISCHIEVOUS, BUT ADORABLE - AREN'T THEY? LIKE PUPPIES, OR INFANTS). |ENCRYPTED SECTION: I'M POSITIVE; MJOLNIR ARMOR, TAGGED AND ON THE WAY TO ALGOLIS FOR STORAGE. BUT I'VE ONLY MANAGED TO TAG THEM - I DON'T THINK ANYONE SHORT OF THE SECURITY COMMITTEE OR DIRECTOR PARANGOSKY HAS ENOUGH CLOUT TO GET THE SUITS OUT OF STORAGE. AND THE BOYS AT ALGOLIS ARE KNOWN FOR THEIR VERY SECURE FACILITIES (I HAVE FIRST-HAND EXPERIENCE TO PROVE IT). BUT IN CASE THE COVENANT FIND THE PLANET, IT MIGHT BE POSSIBLE TO EXTRACT THEM AFTER SECURITY'S DOWN AND BEFORE THE COVENANT GET TO THEM; ENSURING THEY DON'T GET WASTED.|ENCRYPTED SECTION: END|

YOU REALLY SHOULD FIND YOURSELF A WOMAN; I GET THE IMPRESSION THAT SOME KISSING WOULD DO YOU GOOD. AT LEAST IT'D BE BETTER THAN BUYING SUCH SERVICES ON THE BROTHEL ON GILGAMESH. |ENCRYPTED SECTION: YES, IT'S A WASTE THAT KURT WAS LOST ON THAT RECON. IT'D HAVE BEEN BETTER IF HE LIVED AND WAS THE ONE CHOSEN TO TRAIN THESE KIDS INSTEAD OF ME; HE WAS A NATURAL LEADER. BUT THERE'S NOTHING TO DO ABOUT THAT NOW; I'LL HONOR HIM AND ALL THE OTHER FALLEN SPARTANS IN MY OWN WAY. SPEAKING OF SIERRAS, ADDITIONAL DIGGING INTO SPECWARCOM GROUP THREE DATABASES SHOW THAT NOBLE ISN'T THE ONLY "SPECIAL" TEAM OF OPERATORS; THERE'S ALSO UNITS CALLED [ROYAL], [GAUNTLET] AND [ECHO], MAYBE MORE THAN THAT. WHAT'S MORE IS THAT THE GROUP'S CO IS URBAN HOLLAND - I THINK YOU'RE AWARE OF THE FACT THAT HE'S A LEGEND IN SPECWARCOM. I'M NOT SURPRISED HE'S BEEN CHOSEN TO COMMAND SIERRA UNITS (MAYBE WE SHOULD CONSIDER ASSIGNING ONE OR TWO OF THE ARES TEAMS TO HIS COMMAND? I'D SLEEP BETTER KNOWING HE'S ONE OF THE OFFICERS COMMANDING MY MEN).|ENCRYPTED SECTION: END|

AS FOR THE CANDIDATES AND THEIR "ISSUES", YOU SAID IT. AND CUT 332 SOME SLACK; I THINK SHE PICKED IT UP FROM ME. AND AS I SAID ABOVE, 341 IS ADORABLE - WHEN HE ISN'T RUNNING HIS MOUTH LIKE CRAZY. 347 WORRIES ME, THOUGH; ARROGANCE NEVER GETS YOU FAR IN THIS LINE OF WORK.|ENCRYPTED SECTION: ACTUALLY, THAT'S VERY OPTIMISTIC THINKING FOR A SPARTAN. MOST OF US EXPECT TO DIE NOT JUST IN THE FIELD, BUT UNNAMED. AT LEAST I WANT A TOMBSTONE. AND BESIDES, I DO A LOT OF IMAGINING; IT'S JUST THAT I CAN'T MAKE MYSELF LIVE PEACEFULLY WHILE THERE'S OTHERS THAT DON'T AND NEED MY HELP. WERE IT NOT FOR THAT, I MAY HAVE DEFECTED YEARS AGO - I HONESTLY DON'T CARE ABOUT THE UNSC (TREASON AS IT IS TO SAY THAT THESE DAYS, AT LEAST IF YOU'RE EMPLOYED WITH SECTION THREE), LET ALONE ONI. WHAT I CARE ABOUT IS MY FAMILY, MY COMRADES AND ALL THE PEOPLE THAT CAN'T FEND FOR THEMSELVES. CALL ME TRAITOR IF YOU WANT, BUT THAT'S HOW IT IS.|ENCRYPTED SECTION: END|

**_PROJECT: ARES INTERNAL MESSAGE_**

**_(FROM: COL GRIFFIN STANDOFF; TO: CPT LASZLO KATONA; SUBJECT: PROJECT ARES)_**

YOU'RE RIGHT ON THAT ONE, FRIEND. LIFE IS NEVER NEAT AND TIDY. I'VE LEARNED THAT THE HARD WAY THESE PAST FEW YEARS, AND THE THINGS I'VE DONE HAVE BEEN RELATIVELY TAME…WELL, BY ONI STANDARDS AT LEAST. EVEN SO, I CAN'T HELP REMEMBERING BETTER DAYS. EVERYTHING USED TO MAKE SENSE, HAVE AN ORDER, AND WE ALL USED TO HAVE A FUTURE. AND THAT'S A PROSPECT THAT'S SHRINKING QUICKER THAN MY HAIRLINE. AND DON'T TUTE YOUR OWN HORN TO MUCH, SON. YOU CAN KEEP YOUR 168 IQ SCORE. I'LL KEEP MY THREE BIOENGINEERING AND NEURAL STUDIES DEGREES. |ENCRYPTED SECTION: IF THOSE HORROR STORIES ARE SUPPOSED TO MAKE ME FEEL BETTER, THEN I THINK YOU NEED TO REEVALUATE YOUR METHODS. YOU WILL DEFINITELY NOT MAKE OUTSTANDING MORALE LIFTER OF THE YEAR WITH THOSE KINDS OF UGLY ONI STORIES, LAZ. I DO THANK GOD EVERY DAY THOUGH I NEVER ENDED UP IN SPECIAL OPERATIONS. I DON'T LIKE THE WEAKNESS OF IT, BUT I'M NOT SURE I COULD SLOT SOMEONE IN THE COLD LIKE THAT, EVEN IF I WANTED TO.|ENCRYPTED SECTION: END|

GOOD TO KNOW THEY'LL TOLERATE THE ARMOR WELL ENOUGH TO USE IT. THAT'S ONE BURDEN LIFTED, IF ONLY A LITTLE. AND DID ANYTHING PROVOKE 343? OR DID SHE JUST GO OFF ON 347? (NOT THAT'D I'D BLAME HER; I TRY TO STAY PRETTY NEUTRAL AND STAY FAIR, BUT THAT GIRL REALLY IS A HANDFUL - I'D REGRET GIVING HER A TEAM, IF SHE WASN'T SO DAMNED TALENTED) BESIDES THE ONES YOU NAMED (OUR CREAM OF THE CROP), HOW ARE THE OTHERS HOLDING UP WITH IT? I'M GETTING VERY WORRIED ABOUT SOME OF THEM. THE DISPARITIES IN THEIR GENETIC MATCHUP ARE REALLY STARTING TO BECOME MORE APPARENT (YOUR PROBABLY ALREADY AWARE, BUT I SAW THAT 338'S PROFICIENCY WITH SNIPER WEAPONRY IS EXPONENTIALLY BETTER THAN ARE WEAKER RECRUITS, 343 IS MATCHING THAT WITH CLOSE COMBAT, AND 341 - WELL, HE MAY BE A LITTLE SHIT, BUT HE'S GOOD WITH EVERYTHING). I DON'T WANT KIDS FALLING BEHIND. |ENCRYPTED SECTION: THAT POTENTIAL ALGOLIS RETRIEVAL WILL BE ONE INTERESTING MISSION THEN, FOR WHOEVER IS NEAREST. I WOULDN'T BE JEALOUS OF ANYONE TRYING TO GRAB CLASSIFIED TECH IN THE MIDDLE OF AN INVASION (THOUGH I GUESS THE ENGINEERS END UP DOING THAT EVERY TIME THE COVENANT ATTACK, COUNTING THE COLE PROTOCOL AND EVERYTHING). I GUESS THE QUESTION NOW IS WHETHER WE TELL THE RECRUITS ABOUT IT OR JUST MAKE NOTE OF IT FOR USE LATER.|ENCRYPTED SECTION: END|

FIND MYSELF A WOMAN? THERE'S AN IDEA, IF I EVER HEARD ONE. TELL YOU WHAT: YOU SET IT UP, AND I'LL GLADLY OBLIGE IN SOME ROMANCE (AND WHAT DO YOU KNOW ABOUT BROTHEL'S, ANYWAY?)|ENCRYPTED SECTION: THAT'S THE NATURE OF WAR I GUESS. SOME OF US GET GRAND, HEROIC DEATHS, AND THE REST OF US END UP BEING SLOTTED BECAUSE OF BAD LUCK AND RANDOM CHANCE. AND I THINK YOU DISCREDIT YOURSELF TO MUCH. THE RECRUITS REALLY DO LOOK UP TO YOU AND RESPECT YOU, AND THAT SAYS A LOT. I'M CERTAINLY GRATEFUL. I'VE READ THE FILES ON SOME OF THE OTHER CHARLIE ONES, AND THERES MORE THAN A FEW I'M GLAD I DON'T HAVE TO WORK WITH. I READ UP ON A FEW ([S-013] AND [S-144), AND I SWEAR I WOULD SHOOT MYSELF IF I HAD TO WORK WITH THOSE KINDS OF NUTTERS. AND GOOD WORK FINDING THOSE OTHER SPARTAN GROUPS; IT NEVER CEASES TO AMAZE ME HOW (WITH SECURITY CLEARANCES WELL BELOW MY OWN) YOU ALWAYS SEEM TO FIND THESE SO EASILY. AND YES, I KNOW ABOUT HOLLAND. HE DEFINITELY SEEMS THE TYPE TO RUN A CONTINGENT OF SIERRAS. IF WE CAN SWING IT, I DON'T SEE ANYTHING WRONG WITH MAKING CONTACT WITH HIM. WORK YOUR CONTACTS, AND I'LL WORK ON THE BRASS.|ENCRYPTED SECTION: END|

I'M SURE HALSEY WOULD BE SHITTING BRICKS IF SHE KNEW ONE OF HER SPARTANS WAS SUCH A BAD INFLUENCE ON THE YOUTH. WHO'D HAVE THOUGHT THAT A SIERRA IN TRAINING WOULD PICK UP SLEAZY HABITS - FROM ANOTHER SPARTAN? AND 341, ADORABLE? REALLY SON? YOU REALLY DO LIKE CRIMSON, DON'T YOU? (AS FOR 347, I'M GOING TO ENROLE HER IN SOME COUNSELING SESSIONS TO HOPEFULLY IRON HER ARROGANCE OUT. OUR TEAM LEADERS CAN'T AFFORD TO BE OVERCONFIDENT; WITH ALL THEIR INHERENT DISADVANTAGES, THEY'LL END UP GETTING THEIR PEOPLE KILLED. |ENCRYPTED SECTION: I HOPE YOU'RE NOT OFFENDED, BUT YOU REALLY DO PUZZLE ME. ONE SECOND YOU ACT LIKE A NORMAL PERSON, INDEPENDENT AND SOVEREIGN, AND THE NEXT YOU ACCEPT YOUR FATE LIKE IT'S SET IN STONE. WE LIVE IN VERY DIFFERENT WORLDS (AS IF IT NEEDED POINTING OUT). AND I'M NOT GOING TO TURN YOU INTO SECTION 0 FOR A FEW UNKIND WORDS ABOUT THE UNSC, DON'T WORRY. I'VE GOT NO LOVE FOR ONI, AND THE ONLY REASON I'M HERE IS BECAUSE IT'S MY DUTY. YOUR NO MORE OF A TRAITOR THAN I AM (AND PROBABLY LESS OF ONE THAN 341, THE CONNIVING BASTARD).|ENCRYPTED SECTION: END|

* * *

><p>AN: Wow, so when I decided to put these up here, I never intended for updates to take more than a month. In the future, updates should take no more than a month, and frequently should occur every two weeks. Please, read and review.<p> 


	3. Chapter 3

_**GRIFFIN STANDOFF'S JOURNAL**_

MY DISCRETE "DISCUSSIONS" WITH LAZ CONTINUE WITH FREQUENCY. IT'S FUNNY; AFTER ALMOST SEVEN YEARS OF SILENCE, THE MOMENT WE START TALKING ABOUT THINGS SERIOUSLY, WE FIND WE HAVE MUCH WE NEED TO DISCUSS. I THINK I'VE LEARNED MORE ABOUT ONI, THE CHARLIE ONES, AND THE BRASS IN THE LAST MONTH THAN IN THE PAST FIVE YEARS. LASZLO WAS NO RANDOM RECRUIT LIKE ME; HE'S TOP NOTCH ALL THE WAY, SCARILY INTELLIGENT AND FULLY IMMERSED IN THE BLACK OPS CULTURE. I'M WISHING DEARLY THAT I'D HAVE TRIED HARDER EARLY TO ESTABLISH CONTACT. WE MIGHT HAVE BEEN ABLE TO CHANGE THINGS, GENUINELY IMPROVE THE ODDS, INSTEAD OF ENACTING LAST RESORT MEASURES LIKE WE ARE NOW.

AMONG THE WEALTH OF THINGS WE'VE DISCUSSED IN THE PAST COUPLE OF WEEKS, A FEW KEY NUGGETS OF RELEVANT INFORMATION PEEK OUT. ONE, IS THAT RKD IS GOING TO BE PITCHING THEIR NEWEST SUIT OF POWER ARMOR, WHICH WE MAY OR MAY NOT HAVE A REPRESENTATIVE THERE TO OBSERVE. SECOND IS THAT LASZLO HAS CONSIDERABLY LOWER CLEARANCES THAN ME, BUT KNOWS HOW TO USE HIS MUCH BETTER. HE'S GIVEN ME MORE THAN ONE LEAD THAT TURNED UP INTERESTING INFORMATION (CASE IN POINT: HE MENTIONED A SUBSECTION OF SECTION III, BETA-5, IN PASSING, AND JUST THAT ONE LITTLE PROMPT HELPED ME REFINE MY SEARCH; FROM JUST THAT ONE CLUE, I MANAGED TO FIND CSVS ON TWO SEPARATE SPECIAL FORCES UNITS - NOBLE AND HEADHUNTER - WHICH ARE ALMOST DEFINITELY SIERRAS).

BESIDES THE CSVS I TURNED UP, LAZ HAS BEEN EQUALLY HELPFUL IN LOOKING AT NAVSPECWAR. HE'S DONE SOME "DIGGING" AS HE CALLS IT, AND TURNED UP AN ADDITIONAL THREE SIERRA TEAMS - MAYBE MORE - ALL WITHOUT CLEAR ORIGINS. I GUESS THE LAST PART ISN'T SURPRISING, GIVEN THE SECRECY THAT SURROUNDS ALL OF THE DIFFERENT PROGRAMS, BUT IT'S STILL A BIT DISQUIETING. MAKES ME WONDER WHAT OUR ONI BACKERS THINK OF US; OUR CLASSIFICATION AND SECRECY ISN'T NEARLY AS GOOD, SO OUR RELATIVE VALUE, COMPARED TO THE OTHER SIERRA GROUPS, IS SUSPICIOUS. AND GIVEN HOW CALLOUSLY ONI WASTED SIX HUNDRED SIERRA THREES - TOP CLASSIFIED, HIGH VALUE PROGRAMS - I'M ALMOST AFRAID TO THINK ABOUT HOW THEY'LL DEPLOY OUR SQUADS.

**SEPTEMBER 23RD, 2547**

_**PROJECT: ARES INTERNAL MESSAGE**_

_**(FROM: CPT LASZLO KATONA; TO: COL GRIFFIN STANDOFF; SUBJECT: PROJECT ARES)**_

OH, CHEER UP; DON'T YOU KNOW THERE'S WIGS IN CASE YOU RUN OUT OF HAIR? THOUGH IN ALL HONESTY, WE ARE LOSING TERRITORY, THAT WE CAN BOTH AGREE ON. WHICH IS WHY WE NEED TO MAKE SURE THAT WE DON'T LOSE MORE. IF THESE TRAINEES - NO, SOLDIERS, THEY'VE COME THAT FAR BY NOW - CAN ACHIEVE THAT, THEN IT'LL BE WORTH IT (REGARDLESS OF WHAT YOU AND I WILL FEEL ABOUT THE LOSSES). IF THEY CAN'T...THEN AT LEAST I'LL KNOW WHAT LEVEL OF HELL TO EXPECT ONCE I DIE. AND WELL, IQ'S PRETTY MUCH THE ONLY MEASURE I'M ALLOWED TO HAVE, SEEING AS I CAN'T UNIVERSITY COURSES LIKE YOU. |ENCRYPTED SECTION: MAKES ME WONDER WHAT I'D BE IF I HADN'T BEEN RECRUITED. A MASTER THIEF (ROBBING THE UEG GOLD RESERVE CLEAN AND GETTING AWAY WITH IT SEEMS EASY TO ME COMPARED TO FIGHTING A WAR AGAINST GENOCIDAL ALIENS)? A CAA INVESTIGATOR (DETECTIVE WORK SOUNDS FUN, AT LEAST IF YOU GO BY WHAT YOU SEE IN THE VIDS)? A MARINE (SERVING LIKE I DO NOW, JUST WITH MORE FREEDOM)? AN AIRMAN (PUTTING THOSE PILOT SKILLS TO GOOD USE)? WHAT DO YOU THINK? OH, AND I GUESS I SUCK AT CHEERING PEOPLE UP, BUT YOU HAVE TO ADMIT IT COULD ALL BE A WHOLE LOT WORSE.|ENCRYPTED SECTION: END|.

I'M CERTAIN 347 WAS PLAYING UP THE ME, MYSELF AND MY AWESOMENESS FOR SOME TIME BEFORE RACHEL SNAPPED AT HER, BUT I HAVEN'T BOTHERED INVESTIGATING IT. I PREFERRED TO KEEP THE DI'S SHARP ON OTHER MATTERS, AND I WANTED THE SUIT TRAINING UNDERWAY IMMEDIATELY. AND AS FOR THE OTHERS KEEPING UP? MOSTLY THEY DO WELL, THEY KEEP UP AND STAY STRONG, BUT...IT'S VISIBLE IT TAKES MORE EFFORT. I'M AFRAID SOME OF THEM MAY BE ON THE VERGE OF BREAKING (I ORDERED SOME STIMS INTO THOSE CANDIDATES' MEALS FOR SOME TIME TO COME - THEY NEED TO KEEP FIGHTING IF THEY'RE TO STAND A CHANCE). BUT MOSTLY, THEY'RE DOING WELL (BALDUIN IN PARTICULAR IS A FIGHTER - HE'S NOT CREAM OF THE CROP, BUT I HAVEN'T SEEN SUCH WILLPOWER ANYWHERE; HAD HE HAD RACHEL'S GENETIC MAKEUP, HE WOULD BE NUMBER ONE, NO QUESTION. TOO BAD HIS GENES ARE AGAINST HIM). DON'T WORRY TOO MUCH; THEY'RE NOT FALLING BEHIND. NOT IF I CAN HELP IT. |ENCRYPTED SECTION: YOU WANT MY OPINION ON THE ALGOLIS ARMOR? TELL CRIMSON, BUT ONLY IF THEY FIND THEMSELVES IN THE SECTOR AND THE WINTER CONTINGENCY IS DECLARED. NONE OF THE OTHER TEAMS WOULD AGREE TO THEFT (RACHEL MIGHT, BUT SHE WOULDN'T BE ABLE TO DO IT ALONE), AND IF TOO MANY KNEW ABOUT IT...I DON'T WANT TO GET ANY OF THE KIDS IN TROUBLE. SUCH INFORMATION COULD PROVE CATASTROPHIC, EVEN TO SIERRAS.|ENCRYPTED SECTION: END|

AND, WELL, I HAVE ENCOUNTERED A FAIR AMOUNT OF LOVELY LADIES THROUGHOUT MY CAREER (COVERT OPS GET YOU INTO CONTACT WITH CIVILIANS MORE OFTEN THAN YOU'D THINK |ENCRYPTED SECTION: - EVERY OPERATIVE'S AUTHORIZED TO SET UP HIS OWN NETWORK OF CONTACTS AS NECESSARY TO COMPLETE OUR MISSIONS, THUS HOW I'VE BEEN ABLE TO COLLECT ALL THIS INTEL I'VE SHARED WITH YOU (PEOPLE DO TELL YOU MORE THAN YOU'D IMAGINE WHEN YOU TALK TO THEM, TOTE A GUN IN THEIR FACES OR GET THEM BETWEEN THE SHEETS)|ENCRYPTED SECTION: END|), SOME OF THEM WHO'S BOUND TO CONSIDER YOU. THERE'S THE GOVERNOR OF HARMONY, CONSTANTINA LORRAINE, SHE OWES ME ONE (I SAVED HER FROM AN ASSASSINATION ATTEMPT BACK IN '26; THE INNIES THERE HAVE ALWAYS BEEN WILD, EVEN NOW - WOULDN'T SURPRISE ME IF THEY HIT A RELAY AND STOLE FREIGHTERS ONE OF THESE DAYS), AND BETTER YET; SHE HAS A THING FOR GUYS IN UNIFORM (NOT THAT I'M, UH, SPEAKING FROM PERSONAL EXPERIENCE OR ANYTHING). BUT IF YOU CAN'T WAIT (OR ORDER A TRIP TO HARMONY), I MIGHT ALSO RECOMMEND DOCTOR STROUD, EYE CANDY AND THE BOSS OF OUR NURSE CONTINGENT (HEARD SHE CAN'T HAVE KIDS, SO THERE'S NO CHANCE OF ANY EMBARRASSING SIDE-EFFECTS OCCURRING BECAUSE OF A PASSIONATE LIAISON - BUT WOOING SHOULD BE DONE TACTFULLY; SHE LOST HER HUSBAND, ONE SERGEANT MARCUS ON ERAS BACK IN '45). I COULD GO ON, IF YOU LIKE, ASSUMING YOU WEREN'T JUST FOOLING ME AROUND. (AS FOR MY BROTHEL EXPERIENCE, IT'S RATHER INDIRECT, REALLY; I WAS DISPATCHED TO GILGAMESH TO TAKE OUT AN INNIE LEADER WHO WAS TAKING OVER THE PLANET'S CRIMINAL UNDERWORLD FROM THE SYNDICATES THAT HAD PREVIOUSLY RULED (BACKED BY ONI, BELIEVE IT OR NOT; APPARENTLY IN RETURN FOR AID IN ROOTING OUT THE REBELS). EVERYTHING DIDN'T GO ACCORDING TO PLAN AND I HAD TO CHASE HIM THROUGH HALF THE TOWN - INCLUDING THE BROTHEL. WHILE PASSING THROUGH THAT PLACE, I ALSO SAVED AN, ERR, EMPLOYEE FROM AN OVERLY ROWDY "CUSTOMER". THINGS WORKED OUT; I GOT THE INNIE, THE "EMPLOYEE" SHOWED HER APPRECIATION IN A RATHER UNORTHODOX MANNER, AND I GOT SOME FIRST-HAND VISUALS ON WHAT A BROTHEL IS LIKE.)|ENCRYPTED SECTION: THANKS FOR THE PEP TALK, BUT IT'S STILL A MATTER OF FACT; OTHERS COULD HAVE DONE THIS BETTER THAN ME. AND BELIEVE IT OR NOT, BUT I KINDA MISS THOSE NUTTERS. LEONID MORE SO, PROBABLY; HE WAS AT LEAST ON MY TEAM, AND I'M NOT SURE I CAN FULLY APPRECIATE A PERSON WHO WAS ONE OF HALSEY'S FAVORITES.|ENCRYPTED SECTION: END|

TO BE PERFECTLY HONEST, I DON'T GIVE A DAMN WHAT HALSEY WOULD THINK ABOUT HOW I TREAT THESE KIDS (WOULD PROBABLY MAKE ACKERSON PROUD BY SAYING THAT, ASSUMING HE WOULD GET TO HEAR IT OR EVEN KNOW OF MY EXISTENCE). AND WHAT DO YOU MEAN, "SLEAZY HABITS"? FLIRTING AND SEDUCTION HAS FAR MORE USES THAN YOU THINK ON ANTI-INNIE OPS (NOW IF ONLY IT WORKED AS WELL ON THE COVENANT...). AND YES, I'M TOTALLY SERIOUS; CRIMSON'S ADORABLE. I MEAN, WHO CAN'T SEE THAT? |ENCRYPTED SECTION: NOT OFFENDED AT ALL. I AM INDEPENDENT AND SOVEREIGN, BUT THAT DOESN'T MEAN I DON'T KNOW WHAT'S FACT AND WHAT'S NOT. HOW I WILL END UP IS A FACT; NO AMOUNT OF CHEERFULNESS WILL EVER CHANGE THAT, ONLY MAKE ME FEEL BETTER ABOUT IT. BUT THING IS THAT I WANT TO FEEL BETTER ABOUT IT, THUS MY HOPING AND DREAMING. AND AWW, HERE I WAS HALF-HOPING YOU WOULD HAND ME OVER; IT'D HAVE BEEN INTERESTING TO SEE IF I COULD'VE INTERCEPTED YOUR COMMUNIQUÉ TO S-0 BEFORE IT REACHED THEM OR NOT.|ENCRYPTED SECTION: END|

_**PROJECT: ARES INTERNAL MESSAGE**_

_**(FROM: COL GRIFFIN STANDOFF; TO: CPT LASZLO KATONA; SUBJECT: PROJECT ARES)**_

A WIG? HA, I'D SOONER GO BALD THAN RESORT TO THAT, SON. I MIGHT LOOK GOOD WITH A DOME JOB. GETTING SERIOUS, HOWEVER, THE PROBLEM ISN'T JUST THAT WE'RE LOSING TERRITORY OR HAVING OUR FLEETS DESTROYED, IT'S THAT IT'S HAPPENING WITHOUT ANY SOLUTION IN SIGHT. AS GOOD AS THEY ARE, OUR YOUNG SOLDIERS ARE STILL JUST STOPGAP METHODS, DESPERATE SOLUTIONS TO HOLD THE COVENANT OFF AS LONG AS POSSIBLE. OUR SPARTANS COULD BEAT THE COVENANT IN EVERY BATTLE, TAKE NO LOSSES EVER, AND WE'D STILL LOSE. THAT'S WHAT KEEPS ME UP AT NIGHT; THE REALIZATION THAT WE NEED A TOTAL GAME CHANGER IF WE'RE GOING TO HAVE ANY HOPE OF BEATING THEM BACK. AND I NEVER CARED MUCH FOR DANTE, REALLY. CHAUCER WAS MORE OF MY FORTE. |ENCRYPTED SECTION: IT'S A GOOD QUESTION, FOR SURE. I ASK MYSELF SOMETHING SIMILAR ALL THE TIME; WHAT WOULD OUR SPARTANS HAVE BECOME, HAD WE NOT DONE WHAT WE'D DONE TO THEM? IT'S AN UGLY TRUTH THAT A LOT OF THEM WOULD HAVE BEEN KILLED BY THE COVENANT…BUT WE DREW FROM INNER COLONIES, AS WELL AS THE PERIPHERY. MAYBE 338 WOULD HAVE BEEN A DOCTOR. OR 349 A POLITICIAN. OR 329 A HOLOVID STAR. ALL WHAT IF'S, THAT ARE NEVER GOING TO COME TRUE.|ENCRYPTED SECTION: END|.

ALRIGHT THEN, I'LL TRUST YOUR JUDGEMENT ON RACHEL AND 347. MY COUNSELORS ARE REPORTING A FEW SMALL SUCCESSES - ALONGSIDE A LOT OF CHALLENGES - SO I'LL LET THEM DEAL WITH IT FOR NOW. AND THAT'S GOOD NEWS ABOUT THE OTHER TRAINEES FIGHTING TO KEEP UP. SOUND'S LIKE YOU HAVE IT UNDER CONTROL - THOUGH IF YOU NEED HELP WITH ANYTHING, JUST GIVE ME A NOTICE AND I'LL DO WHATEVER YOU NEED - MY WORKLOAD IS STILL VERY LIGHT, GIVEN THE STRAIN EVERYONE ELSE IS UNDER. I FEEL A LITTLE GUILTY TAKING BREAKS WHEN THE DI'S ARE GOING AROUND THE CLOCK TO GET THEM READY FOR AUGMENTATION. I REALLY HATE GETTING OLD. I TRIED TO HELP OUT WITH THE IN-SUIT TRAINING (AS I'M SURE DEAN TOLD YOU) AND GOT MY ASS HANDED TO ME BY SEVERAL OF THE TRAINEES. I HAVEN'T GONE NEAR THE SUITS SINCE; I FEEL PRETTY DAMN USELESS, TO TELL THE TRUTH. |ENCRYPTED SECTION: THANK YOU, BUT THE ONLY PROBLEM I SEE IS CONTACTING CRIMSON ONCE THEY'RE IN THE FIELD. I'M STILL NOT SURE ONI WILL KEEP ME ON WITH THE PROJECT AFTET IT'S CONCLUSION - THAT'S ONE I'M GOING OT HAVE TO FIGHT WITH RICH ABOUT. AND IF I'M NOT IN A POSITION TO CONTACT THEM, THERE'S NO WAY I'LL BE ABLE TO TELL THEM (THOUGH, KNOWING 341, THEY MIGHT JUST GO FOR IT ON THEIR OWN)|ENCRYPTED SECTION: END|

GIVEN THE CHOICES, PERHAPS NOT. I DON'T THINK THE GOVERNOR WOULD WORK OUT TO WELL (I WON'T BE BOOKING ANY TRIPS OUT SYSTEM FOR A LONG WHILE, I THINK) AND I DON'T THINK I'D BE COMFORTABLE "WOOING" NURSE STROUD - BEYOND THE OBVIOUS DIFFICULTIES, I HAVE A THING ABOUT WIDOWS. I DON'T FEEL LIKE THAT'S REALLY MY PLACE. SO MAYBE I'LL REWORD THINGS; IF YOU GET ME A NICE, UNCOMPLICATED WOMAN (A MISNOMER, I KNOW) I'LL BE SURE TO OBLIGE YOU. AND I'D NEVER HAVE EXPECTED IT, BUT I GUESS YOU PROBABLY KNOW MORE ABOUT BROTHELS THAN I DO - I NEVER WAS THE KIND TO FREQUENT THEM, IF YOU CATCH MY MEANING. |ENCRYPTED SECTION: IF YOU SAY SO, THEN I GUESS IT'S NOT UP TO ME TO DEBATE ABOUT WHO COULD HAVE DONE IT BETTER. ALL I KNOW IS THAT YOU'RE A MUCH BETTER TEACHER THAN I'LL EVER BE, AND THAT THE KIDS RESPECT YOU. OTHER'S MAY HAVE BEEN ABLE TO HANDLE IT BETTER, BUT THAT'S TRUE FOR EVERYTHING, ISN'T IT? JUST BECAUSE SOMEONE ELSE IS POTENTIALLY BETTER DOESN'T MEAN YOU'RE NOT GOOD AT IT. AND I'M SORRY, I FORGOT THAT YOU WERE IN BROWN WITH [S-144]. I DIDN'T MEAN TO DREDGE ANY BAD MEMORIES UP. AND THAT'S ANOTHER REASON WHY I DON'T LIKE HALSEY - PICKING FAVORITES IS NO WAY TO TRAIN SOLDIERS. |ENCRYPTED SECTION: END|

HOW VERY INDEPDENDENT OF YOU, THUMBING YOUR NOSE TO HALSEY. I PERSONALLY WOULD LIKE TO TELL HER THE INFLUENCE YOU'VE HAD ON SOME OF THE KIDS, JUST TO SEE THE LOOK ON HER FACE WHEN SHE HEARD ABOUT IT. A NASTY SHOCK OR TWO WOULD DO HER SOME GOOD. AND DO YOU WANT ACKERSON TO KNOW OF YOUR EXISTENCE? IF I WERE A SIERRA OPERATING "OFF THE GRID", SO TO SPEAK, THE LAST THING I'D WANT IS TO HAVE HIM CRAWLING ALL OVER ME. HE'D PROBABLY END UP TRADING YOU LIKE A DAMNED PRIZE TO GET HIMSELF A PROMOTION OR HELP SUPPORT ONE OF HIS PROJECTS. AS FOR MY DEFINITION OF "SLEAZY", I GUESS I'M A BIT OLD FASHIONED. YOU YOUNGSTERS AND YOUR "FREE LOVE" WHILE ON DEPLOYMENT DON'T DO ANYTHIG BUT BEFUDDLE ME. AND I'LL TELL YOU WHO CAN'T SEE CRIMSON AS ADORABLE: ME. WHEN I GOT CREAMED THE OTHER DAY IN THE SUIT TRAINING, 319 MADE A JOKE I'D RATHER NOT REPEAT THAT GOT THE WHOLE ROOM LAUGHING AT MY EXPENSE. CALL ME PRIDEFUL, BUT I DON'T PARTICULARILY LIKE BEING MADE A FOOL OF - BY 15 YEAR OLDS. |ENCRYPTED SECTION: AH, GOOD TO HEAR YOU'RE NOT TO TOUCHY. WOULDN'T WANT TO BRUISE YOUR EGO, WOULD I? I ADMIRE YOUR CLARITY, BECAUSE YOU SEEM TO UNDERSTAND YOURSELF MUCH BETTER THAN I DO. YOU'VE GOT A VERY CLEAR IDEA OF YOUR LIFE, FOR BETTER OR WORSE. I DON'T KNOW WHAT I'M FEELING HALF THE TIME ANYMORE. AND BY THE WAY, IF YOU CAN REALLY INTERCEPT MESSAGES WHILE THEY'RE IN TRANSIT, WOULD YOU MIND TUTORING A CERTAIN INQUISITIVE MIND? I CAN SEE A FEW HELPFUL USES FOR SUCH A SKILL.|ENCRYPTED SECTION: END|

_**PROJECT: ARES INTERNAL MESSAGE**_

_**(FROM: CPT LASZLO KATONA; TO: COL GRIFFIN STANDOFF; SUBJECT: PROJECT ARES)**_

I GUESS 18TH CENTURY ARISTOCRAT WIGS AREN'T YOUR THING, THEN? SAD, I THINK YOU'D A LOOK GOOD IN ONE. AND IF WE NEED A GAMECHANGER SO BADLY, WE JUST HAVE TO WORK TOWARDS FINDING ONE, RIGHT? IN THE MEANTIME, TAKE UP PAINTING LIKE I DO; IF YOU'RE FEELING DOWN, JUST DRAW SOMETHING SAD. THEN SELL IT AND EARN A FEW BUCKS! I COULD TEACH YOU, IF YOU LIKE - I'M AN EXCELLENT PAINTER, BELIEVE IT OR NOT. |ENCRYPTED SECTION: IN FACT, ONE OF MY WORKS WAS AUCTIONED OFF RECENTLY (BY A MIDDLE-HAND, A FRIEND OF MINE, OBVIOUSLY) TO SOME RICH COLLECTOR ON BETA GABRIEL FOR A WHOOPING 10,000 cR. I'M NOT KEEPING THAT FOR MYSELF, OBVIOUSLY; I USED 11% TO COMPENSATE SOME OF MY CONTACTS FOR THE RISKS I'VE PUT THEM THROUGH, THE REST I TRANSFERRED TO YOUR ACCOUNT (SURPRISED TO SEE A BONUS TO YOUR PAYCHECK? SO SORRY TO TELL YOU IT WASN'T BECAUSE YOU WERE VOTED EMPLOYEE OF THE MONTH). IN ALL SERIOUSNESS, I TRUST YOU TO SPEND IT WELL; IT'S NOT NEARLY ENOUGH TO INSTALL MAJOR UPGRADES INTO THE SPI SUITS OR ANYTHING, BUT MAYBE SOME NEW MEDICAL SUPPLIES AND SUCH?|ENCRYPTED SECTION: END|

YEAH, DEAN TOLD ME ABOUT YOU GETTING CLOBBERED; WISH I HAD BEEN THERE. I'D WELCOME SEEING A SUPERIOR OFFICER GETTING HIS ASS WHOOPED ANYDAY. BUT REMEMBER THAT YOU AIN'T A SPARTAN, SO DON'T FEEL BAD FOR LOSING TO THEM, SUPERIOR ARMOR OR NOT. THY ARMOR DOSETH NOT MAKETH THY WARRIOR, POETICALLY SPOKEN. DAMN, THAT REMINDED ME OF JUSTIN (A FELLOW SIERRA). HEH, WE CALLED HIM "THE POETIC SPARTAN". OR AT LEAST I AND HIS TEAMMATES DID. |ENCRYPTED SECTION: YOU'VE GOT MY SUPPORT TO STAY ON WITH THE PROJECT AFTER GRADUATION, LITTLE AS THAT MAY BE. AND YES, COMMUNICATION WITH CRIMSON MIGHT BE A PROBLEM, BUT LIKE YOU SAID THERE'S ALSO A BIG CHANCE THEY MANAGE IT ON THEIR OWN. ONLY TIME WILL TELL, I GUESS.|ENCRYPTED SECTION: END|

HMM, GOOD POINT; COME TO THINK OF IT, IT'D BE HARD TO FILE A DIVORCE AGAINST THE GOVERNOR WITHOUT YOU GOING BANKRUPT. AND I CAN UNDERSTAND HOW YOU FEEL ABOUT WIDOWS (I DON'T AGREE, THOUGH; AS I SEE IT, SOME COMFORT COULD DO THEM GOOD, ESPECIALLY BECAUSE OF THEIR GRIEF). BUT DON'T WORRY, I'VE GOT MORE (AND CLOSER TO YOUR REWORDED SPECIFICS). ROSALINDA WHITTLESEY - A RATHER UNCOMPLICATED PIOUS CATHOLIC, THOUGH PRAYS A LITTLE TOO MUCH FOR MY TASTE (MIGHT BE A TURN-ON FOR YOU, THOUGH, WHO KNOWS? JENDAYI AGAHOWA - A REALLY NICE LADY FROM NEW MOMBASA WORKING WITH THE POLICE DEPARTMENT (DISLIKES THE COMMISSIONER - KINSLER - QUITE A BIT); TANISHA DZIEDZIC - A POPULAR ARMY CAPTAIN BRIEFLY (AND AGAINST HER WISHES) ENLISTED BY ONI FOR LIAISON PURPOSES (MIGHT UNDERSTAND WHAT YOU'RE GOING THROUGH, RIGHT?). JUST GIVE A WINK IF YOU WANT MORE (OR MEANS OF CONTACT IN CASE YOU'RE INTERESTED IN ONE OF THE ABOVE).|ENCRYPTED SECTION: IT'S ALRIGHT. LEONID ACTED A BIT LESS NUTTY WHEN HE WAS IN BROWN; TO PLEASE MENDEZ, NO DOUBT. THAT MAN WAS THE ONLY PERSON LEO EVER RESPECTED. WE ALL RESPECTED HIM. EVEN ME. AND YOU MAY NOT WANT TO BELIEVE IT, BUT GROWING STRONGER ATTACHMENT TO SOME INDIVIDUALS THAN TO OTHERS IS SOMETHING WE DO SUBCONSCIOUSLY, SO YOU CAN'T REMOVE FAVORITES FROM TRAINING ENTIRELY. WHAT'S IMPORTANT IS THAT WE DON'T ACT ON THOSE EMOTIONS, OR AT LEAST LIMIT THE OCCASSIONS WE DO SO. YOU KNOW I LIKE ROGER, CONNOR, RACHEL AND BALDUIN A LOT. WHAT I HAVEN'T DONE IS GIVE THEM SPECIAL TREATMENT. HALSEY'S PICKS TURNED OUT GOOD, NO DENYING THAT (JOHN WAS INDEED THE BEST CHOICE FOR LEADER, AND THOUGH AJAX COULD HAVE GONE BADLY, HE ENDED UP ALRIGHT), BUT I DIDN'T TAKE THAT RISK WITH THESE CANDIDATES. AND I DON'T REGRET THAT DECISION (LET'S FACE IT; IT'D HAVE BEEN DISASTROUS IF I MADE RACHEL LEADER OF THE WHOLE CONTINGENT).|ENCRYPTED SECTION: END|

YEAH, YOU ARE OLD-FASHIONED. BUT GIVEN YOUR BALDING SCALP, I'LL CUT YOU SOME SLACK. AND YOU'VE GOT TO LEARN TO LAUGH WITH THEM WHEN THE CANDIDATES MAKE A JOKE; DON'T LET YOURSELF BE LAUGHED AT, THEN THEY'LL JUST LOSE RESPECT FOR YOU. THEY PLANTED A SIGNAL ROCKET INSIDE MY ROOM TWO YEARS BACK, YOU DIDN'T SEE ME HIDING IN THE CORNER OUT OF SHAME AFTER IT BLEW AND SET MY UNIFORM ON FIRE (THOUGH I DID GET SWEET VENGEANCE BY MAKING DEAN RUN THEM ALL DAY LONG IN THE CAVES OUTSIDE THE BASE RATHER THAN THE FIELDS INSIDE). |ENCRYPTED SECTION: SURE, I CAN TEACH YOU TO INTERCEPT MESSAGES. I'VE ATTACHED INSTRUCTIONS TO THIS MESSAGE. I'D BE WATCHING AND HELPING YOU LEARN IT PERSONALLY, BUT SOMEHOW I DON'T IMAGINE RICH WOULD AGREE TO ME TUTORING YOU IN POTENTIALLY "DANGEROUS" TALENTS.|ENCRYPTED SECTION: END|

_**PROJECT: ARES INTERNAL MESSAGE**_

_**(FROM: COL GRIFFIN STANDOFF; TO: CPT LASZLO KATONA; SUBJECT: PROJECT ARES)**_

AS FOR A GAMECHANGER, I AGREE THAT WE HAVE TO LOOK FOR ONE…BUT THAT'S ALSO EASIER SAID THAN DONE? WHERE DO WE EVEN START? TRY AND REPURPOSE THEIR TECHNOLOGY? WE'RE ALREADY WORKING ON THAT, WITH LIMITED SUCCESS. I SEE FEW OTHER OPTIONS, BESIDES PERHAPS FLEEING. AND I WISH I COULD PAINT, BUT I'M A TERRIBLE ARTIST. I TRIED AN ART CLASS ONCE IN COLLEGE, BECAUSE MY ADVISOR THOUGHT I WAS "TOO INTENSE". I ENDED UP DROPPING IT AFTER THREE MONTHS (THE ONLY CLASS I EVER DROPPED, ACTUALLY). STYLE OF FORM AND COLOR BLENDING ARE NOT MY CUP OF TEA.|ENCRYPTED SECTION: HA…NOT EXACTLY A CONVENTIONAL MANNER OF GATHERING MONEY, BUT I GUESS EVERYTHING HELPS. PRETTY IMPRESSIVE, HOWEVER. YOU'RE A MAN OF MANY TALENTS, I GUESS. AND DON'T WORRY, I'LL MAKE SURE THE FUNDS GET USED WELL. ONI IS GIVING US MOST OF WHAT WE NEED IN TERMS OF REGULAR MEDICAL SUPPLIES, BUT SPECIAL STUFF - MEDICAL SUPPLIES THAT THEY DON'T THINK WE NEED A USE FOR - ARE NOT INCLUDED. I'LL SEE ABOUT MAKING UP FOR THAT DISRECPANCY. |ENCRYPTED SECTION: END|

OH, DEAN TOLD YOU ABOUT MY ASS GETTING KICKED, DID HE? I MIGHT JUST HAVE TO REPRIMAND HIM FOR THAT-AKA, BEAT HIM UP MYSELF (IF I CAN, THAT IS; SOMETIMES I SWEAR HE'S JUST AS STRONG AND FAST AS YOU SPARTANS). AS FOR JUSTIN, I THINK THAT MIGHT HAVE BEEN QUOTED SOMEWHERE. I SWEAR I'VE HEARD IT IN A SIERRA - RELATED DOCUMENT. YOU SPARTANS SURE DO HAVE SOME CREATIVE ABILITIES; I READ A REPORT BY FHAJAD THE OTHER DAY ON SLIPSTREAM MECHANICS, AND IT MADE ME REALIZE HOW MUCH MORE DIVERSE YOU GUYS ARE THAN THE AVERAGE PERSON THINKS. IT WAS A LITTLE INSPIRING, ACTUALLY; I ENDED UP SPENDING HALF THE NIGHT READING A REPORT ON THE ABUSE POTENTIAL OF UNSC CLASSIFCATION SYSTEMS BY A CERTAIN MICHAEL-A306 (ONE OF THE S-III ALPHA KIDS WHO GOT WASTED DURING PROMETHUS). ENLIGHTENING AND ENTERTAINING STUFF.|ENCRYPTED SECTION: THANK YOU, THAT ACTUALLY MEANS A LOT. I AM SURE THAT ONI WON'T WANT ME TO STAY ON, SO I'M GATHERING WHAT REMAINING CLOUT I HAVE LEFT WITH RICH AND ATTEMPTING TO PRESERVE IT - AND I THINK HE PROBABLY RESPECTS YOU (EVEN IF HE IS A SCARY BASTARD). AS FOR CRIMSON, I THINK IT'S BEST NOT TO TELL THEM YET. I'VE BEEN LOOKING UP SOME MORE…DISCREET MESSAGING TECHNIQUES, AND I'M PRETTY SURE I CAN SLIP A NOTICE UNDER THE RADAR TO THEM IF PRESSED. |ENCRYPTED SECTION: END|

AND REALLY, DIVORCE? SON, IF I'M GETTING MARRIED, THEN I BETTER KNOW DAMN SURE BEFORE HAND I WANT TO BE WITH THEM. I DON'T PARTICULARILY LIKE DOING THINGS BY HALF MEASURES. AND I'VE GOT TO ADMIT, I'M IMPRESSED. YOU'RE VERY WELL TRAVELED TO KNOW SO MANY PEOPLE, TO SAY THE LEAST. AS FOR YOUR "SELECTIONS", I CAN SEE A FEW OBVIOUS PROBLEMS WITH SOME OF THEM (OUT OF SYSTEM GIRLS ARE A NO-NO, BECAUSE I'M NOT GOING TO LEAVE HERE ANYTIME SOON, SO I THINK THAT MOMBASSA GIRL IS OUT) BUT IF THAT ARMY LIASON YOU MENTIONED EVER PASSES BY, LET ME KNOW. I CAN ALWAYS APPRECIATE EXASPERATION AT ONI'S SHENNANIGANS. |ENCRYPTED SECTION: EVEN SO, I'M SORRY. YOU MUST MISS ALL OF THEM QUITE A BIT. THOUGH MOVING ON, I DO RATHER WISH I'D HAD THE OPPURTUNITY TO MEET MENDEZ. FROM ALL THAT I'VE HEARD, HE SEEMS LIKE A GOOD MAN; I CAN SEE WHY YOU ALL LOOKED UP TO HIM. AND I IMAGINE YOUR RIGHT ABOUT PICKING FAVORITES SUBCONSCIOUSLY (THOUGH I HAVE TO WONDER NOW, WHO ARE MY FAVORITES? DEFINITELY NOT 341 AND COMPANY - OR 347. OR IS THAT THE POINT? I DON'T PICK FAVORITES BUT DO PICK ANTI-FAVORITES? NOW I REMEMBER WHY PSYCHOLOGY ALWAYS CONFUSED ME SO MUCH IN HIGH SCHOOL). ALSO, I THINK IT'S WORTHWHILE TO POINT OUT THAT I DON'T THINK ANY OF OUR CANDIDATES WOULD HAVE MADE A GOOD CONTINGENT COMMANDER; FOR BETTER OR WORSE, OUR SPARTANS ARE FUNDAMENTALLY DIFFERENT FROM HALSEY'S IN THAT THEY'RE A LOT MORE DISPARATE; FROM WHAT I UNDERSTAND, TEAMS SHIFTED AND CARRIED LESS SIGNIFICANCE FOR YOUR CLASS, WHILE FOR OUR KIDS, THEY'RE CLOSER THAN FAMILY. EVEN THE ONES WHO ARE, WITHOUT A DOUBT, EXCELLENT LEADERS (363, 338, 309) WOULDN'T HAVE MADE GOOD OVERALL COMMANDERS. THEY ARE ALL JUST TOO SEPARATED. |ENCRYPTED SECTION: END|

FEEL FREE TO MENTION THE RECEDING HAIRLINE WHENEVER YOU WANT, BY THE WAY. I JUST LOVE TALKING ABOUT IT, AFTER ALL. MY FAVORITE FRIGGING SUBJECT. AND I DO MY BEST TO LAUGH WITH THEM, AND FOR THE MOST PART, THINGS WORK OUT PRETTY MUCH LIKE YOU SAID THEY SHOULD. 319 JUST HAS A TALENT FOR BEING A SMART-ASS THOUGH. (BUT SINCE YOU MENTIONED IT, YOUR STORY WAS VERY ENTERTAINING). I WISH I'D BEEN THERE TO SEE YOU ON FIRE. |ENCRYPTED SECTION: THANK YOU FOR TAKING THE TIME TO SEND THE INSTRUCTIONS. AND I IMAGINE "OFF HAND" TEACHING IS PROBABLY FOR THE BEST. IT REALLY WOULD BE BETTER THAT RICH AND THE OTHER SPOOK MENAGERIE DON'T FIND OUT ABOUT THIS WHOLE THING. I'M NOT PLANNING ON USING IT FOR THEIR ADVANTAGE, AFTER ALL. |ENCRYPTED SECTION: END|

_**GRIFFIN STANDOFF'S JOURNAL**_

I'M BEGINNING TO SERIOUSLY WONDER WHAT ONI'S INTRUSION SOFTWARE CAN PICK UP. LASZLO'S BEEN WATCHING THE NETWORK TIGHT, AND SAYS DATA TRAFFIC INCURSIONS HAVE SPIKED SINCE WE STARTED OUR COVERT CORRESPONDENCE. WE'RE IN THE DEAD CENTER OF THE CURRENT TRAINING PHASE, SO IT'S NOT RELATED TO THAT. ME AND LAZ ARE THE CAUSE, WITHOUT A DOUBT. THE ONLY QUESTION IS WHETHER THE INCREASED TRAFFIC IS COMING FROM THEM TRYING TO BREAK OUR CODED SECTIONS…OR WHETHER THEY'VE ALREADY BROKEN IT AND ARE COMPILING EVIDENCE AGAINST US.

MY ACTUAL HANDS-ON WORK ON THE PROJECT HAS BEEN THINNING SINCE IN-SUIT TRAINING BEGAN, BECAUSE THINGS ARE SO MUCH MORE TECHNICAL AND DANGEROUS - AND, AS 341 MIGHT DELICATELY PUT IT, I'M GODDAMN OLD. LUCKILY, RICH'S BACKERS IN ONI HAVE BEEN COMPENSATING WITH MORE WORK ON THE PLANNING STAGES; NO BREAKS IN THE CARDS FOR ME, I GUESS. THEY'VE GOT A WHOLE LIST OF PLANNING AND ORGANIZING THEY WANT DONE, AND MIND NUMBING AS IT IS, AT LEAST IT KEEPS ME OCCUPIED.

THEIR CURRENT DEMAND IS AN IN-DEPTH DEPLOYMENT SCHEDULE (READ: RECOMMENDATION) FOR THE CHARLIE THREE SQUADS IMMEDIATELY FOLLOWING AUGMENTATION. I KEEP TELLING THEM IT'S TOO EARLY SO START PLANNING THOSE KINDS OF THINGS; WE DON'T KNOW WHAT THE WAR WILL LOOK LIKE A YEAR FROM NOW, WE DON'T KNOW WHAT TEAM'S WILL MAKE IT THROUGH AUGMENTATION, AND WE HAVE NO DATA TO CORRESPOND THE TWO - BUT THEY DON'T LISTEN. HOW EXACTLY THEY INTEND TO DEPLOY OUR SQUADS WITHOUT GIVING THEMSELVES AWAY TO PARANGOSKY AND THE OTHER TALKING SKULLS OF ONI UPPER ECHELON SEEMS TO BE SOMETHING THEY DIDN'T FEEL FIT TO SHARE WITH ME. TO HUMOR THEM, I'VE BEEN READING UP ON THE CURRENT THEATERS OF THE WAR, MAKING NOTES AND TRYING TO PREDICT WHERE IT'LL SPREAD NEXT. NICE, TIDY LISTS AND CHARTS FOR THEM TO FOAM OVER, WHILE ME AND LASZLO TAKE CAR OF THE REAL MATTERS BEHIND THE SCENES.

**OCTOBER 15TH, 2547**

**2548**

WHEN I LOGGED ON TODAY TO MY CONSOLE, I WAS GREETED WITH A MESSAGE FROM LASZLO ABOUT DATA TAMPERING AND INTRUSION. NOT REALLY AN ORIGINAL TOPIC; "DIRTY ONI" (MY FUN NAME FOR RICH'S BACKERS) HAS BEEN SCOURING OR DATA RECORDS SINCE THE START OF THE PROJECT, LOOKING FOR ANY COMPROMISING INFORMATION ON US THEY CAN FIND. WHAT MADE TODAY UNUSUAL, HOWEVER, WERE TWO THINGS: ONE, THE INTRUSION WAS SUCCESSFUL, AND TWO, THE INTRUSION DID NOT COME FROM OUR BACKERS, RICH, OR ANY OF THE OTHER MEN IN BLACK. INSTEAD, IT CAME FROM WITHIN THE COMPOUND ITSELF - AND NOT ONLY THAT, BUT FROM WITHIN THE RANKS OF THE CANDIDATES.

RIGHT NOW, LASZLO IS RUNNING COVERT DAMAGE PATROL AND TRYING TO FIGURE OUT THE EXTENT OF THE PROBLEM. FROM WHAT WE CAN TELL, THE INTERLOPERS GOT ACCESS TO THE SYSTEM SOMETIME DURING THE ARMORY INSPECTION (WHERE THE CANDIDATES WERE ALL OFF DUTY, AND ME AND LASZLO WERE BOTH STUCK IN THE AFT SECTION OF THE BASE) AND COPIED EVERYTHING. NOT JUST THE NORMAL BASE FILES; _EVERYTHING_. CLASSIFIED ONI INTELLIGENCE BRIEFINGS, ME AND LAZ'S SECRET CORRESPONDENCE, EVEN MY PERSONAL JOURNAL. MUCH OF IT IS ENCRYPTED…BUT LASZLO HASN'T BEEN ABLE TO TRACE THE HACK, AND ANYONE GOOD ENOUGH BREAK INTO OUR SYSTEM, COPY EVERYTHING, AND LEAVE WITHOUT A TRACE WOULD BREAK THROUGH THE ENCRYPTION IN A BREEZE.

ONLY A SMALL NUMBER OF TRAINEES POSSESS THE COMPUTER EXPERTISE TO ACCOMPLISH SUCH A FEAT, BUT THE PROBLEM NOW IS EVIDENCE. EVEN If LASZLO MANAGES TO TRACE THEM (UNLIKELY) THEY'LL PROBABLY HAVE IT STORED SOMEWHERE SECURE - OR BETTER YET, THEY MIGHT HAVE JUST COMMITTED THE INFORMATION TO MEMORY AND WIPED IT. I'VE ALREADY GOT A FEW SUSPECTS IN MY MIND (319, 311, AND 341 ARE TOPPING _THAT_ LIST) BUT I DOUBT IT'LL DO MUCH GOOD. WE'LL NEVER BE ABLE TO PIN IT ON THEM. AND EVEN IF WE DID, THEN WHAT? BOOT THEM FROM THE PROGRAM? RICH WOULD NEVER ALLOW IT, NOT AFTER THE MONEY THEY'VE SUNK INTO THEIR TRAINING. AND THUS, I'VE DECIDED TO HAVE LASZLO CALL OFF HIS INVESTIGATION AND FOCUS SOLELY ON REPAIRING ANY DAMAGE THEY MIGHT HAVE CAUSED (THOUGH THEY DON'T APPEAR TO HAVE DONE ANYTHING BUT COPY DOWN DATA).

THERE'S TOO MUCH ELSE GOING ON TOO WASTE OUR TIME CHASING GHOSTS. IF THEY WANT INFORMATION, SO BE IT. MAYBE IT'LL HELP THEM UNDERSTAND EVERYTHING…AND IF NOT, WE'LL BE READY.

**JANUARY 17TH, 2548**

_**PROJECT: ARES INTERNAL MESSAGE**_

_**(FROM: MGST DEAN JACKSON; TO: CPT LAZSLO KATONA; SUBJECT: LAST CHANCE)**_

SIR, I THINK IT'S HIGH TIME THAT WE HAVE ONE LAST BREAK BEFORE WE ENTER THE FINAL STAGE OF TRAINING AND PREPARATION BEFORE THE AUGMENTATIONS.

SO –- YOU, ME, THE COLONEL, DOC BASHIR AND ESTEBAN THE COOK. IN THE MESS AT 10 PM. POKER GAME. BE THERE (IF YOU NEED HELP DRAGGING OUT THE COLONEL TO JOIN US, LET ME KNOW)!

_**MESS HALL RECORDINGS, YEAR 8 (2548)**_

_**(TANTALUS BASE MESS HALL, 05.25.48)**_

**[LASZLO KATONA, GRIFFIN STANDOFF, DEAN JACKSON, OMID BASHIR AND ESTEBAN CARLOS ARE SEATED AROUND A TABLE, PLAYING CARDS. THEY ARE SURROUNDED –- AND CHEERED ON –- BY SEVERAL DIs, WHO ALSO SEEM TO BE BETTING ON THE OUTCOME]**

**CARLOS**: FOLDING AGAIN, COLONEL?

**STANDOFF**: YEAH.

**[IN THE BACKGROUND, A DI GRUDGINGLY HANDS OVER A CREDIT TO ANOTHER]**

**JACKSON**: COME ON, SIR! YOU'RE NEVER GONNA WIN ANYTHING IF YOU KEEP FOLDING.

**STANDOFF**: THANKS FOR THE TIP, SERGEANT, BUT I'VE BEEN PLAYING THIS GAME ENOUGH TO KNOW I HAVE NO TALENT FOR IT.

**JACKSON**: THIS IS ALL JUST IN GOOD FUN, SIR. JUST RELAX A LITTLE AND ENJOY YOURSELF.

**BASHIR**: AS A LICENSED PSYCHOLOGIST, I CONCUR WITH THE GOOD SERGEANT.

**KATONA**: WELL, YOU CAN'T ARGUE WITH THE LOGIC OF BOTH A SERGEANT AND A SHRINK, CAN YOU, GRIFF?

**[STANDOFF SHIFTS SLIGHTLY IN HIS SEAT]**

**STANDOFF**: YOUR CONCERN'S ALL REALLY TOUCHING, BUT HONESTLY? I THINK I MIGHT HAVE FORGOTTEN HOW TO HAVE FUN AND RELAX YEARS AGO.

**BASHIR**: WELL, THAT'S A BIT OF A PROBLEM, ISN'T IT? ALL THE MORE REASON TO -

**STANDOFF**: HEY! YOU'RE SUPPOSED TO ANALYZE THE KIDS, NOT ME!

**BASHIR**: I'M JUST GIVING MY PROFESSIONAL OPINON, COLONEL.

**STANDOFF**: THANKS, BUT I'LL PASS ON YOUR WISDOM FOR NOW, DOC.

**[THE GAME CONTINUES]**

**JACKSON**: ALL RIGHT, ANY LAST BETS BEFORE WE SHOW OUR HANDS?

**DI 1**: TEN ON THE SARGE!

**DI 2**: FIFTEEN ON THE SARGE!

**DI 3**: FIVE ON ESTEBAN!

**JACKSON**: WHAT ABOUT YOU, COLONEL? SINCE YOU FOLDED, YOU COULD AT LEAST PLACE A BET, CAN'T YA?

**[STANDOFF CONTEMPLATES FOR A FEW SECONDS]**

**STANDOFF**: ALRIGHT, FINE. TWENTY CREDS ON LASZLO.

**DI 2**: NO OFFENSE, SIR, BUT THE CAPTAIN'S CLEARLY OUTMATCHED!

**KATONA: (WHISPERING TO JACKSON)**: REMIND ME TO HAVE THAT GUY RUN AROUND THE COMPOUND AFTER WE'RE DONE HERE.

**STANDOFF**: WELL, I STAND BY WHAT I SAID, CORPORAL. TWENTY CREDS ON LASZLO BEATING ALL OF THEM.

**KATONA**: YOU SURE HAVE A LOT OF FAITH IN ME, GRIFF...

**JACKSON**: ALL, RIGHT, SHOW HANDS! ESTEBAN FIRST.

**CARLOS**: TWO PAIRS –- TENS AND SEVENS.

**BASHIR**: (SIGHS IN FRUSTRATION) ONE PAIR -– SEVENS.

**JACKSON**: A BLUFF, EH? REMIND ME NOT TO GET YOU AS MY SHRINK, DOC.

**[JACKSON PAUSES, BEGINNING TO SMILE]**

**JACKSON**: FULL HOUSE!

**[MORE THAN HALF THE DIs CHEER, ONLY INTERRUPTED BY JACKSON RAISING A HAND]**

**JACKSON**: COME ON, LET'S BE SPORTING. THE GOOD CAPTAIN HASN'T SHOWN HIS HAND YET!

**[KATONA LOOKS UP FROM HIS HAND, FROWNING]**

**KATONA**: WELL, THIS IS A DISAPPOINTING DAY FOR ME.

**JACKSON**: NOW, NOW, YOU LOST TO A MASTER, AND THIS IS ALL IN GOOD FUN -

**KATONA**: THAT'S NOT WHAT I MEANT.

**[KATONA'S EXPRESSION TURNS INTO A SMUG SMILE]**

**KATONA**: IT'S DISAPPOINTING HOW MANY OF YOU PLACED YOUR BETS ON THE WRONG PERSON.

**[KATONA REVEALS HIS CARDS]**

**KATONA**: FOUR OF A KIND –- ACES!

**[THE DIs ALTERNATELY BOO AND CHEER, WHILE STANDOFF SMILES SLIGHTLY IN THE BACKGROUND]**

**KATONA**: LET THAT BE A LESSON TO YOU, DEAN. NEVER CHALLENGE A SPARTAN AT POKER –- WE'RE TOO GOOD AT MAINTAINING CONVINCING POKER FACES FOR REGULAR PEOPLE TO KEEP UP. AND THEN THERE'S OUR UNQUENCHABLE DRIVE TO WIN -

**JACKSON**: ALRIGHT, ALRIGHT! NO NEED TO RUB IT IN A POOR OLD MAN'S FACE, IS IT, SIR?

**KATONA**: OLD MAN? YOU GIVE YOURSELF TOO LITTLE CREDIT!

**JACKSON**: I WAS FIGHTING INNIES LONG BEFORE YOU WERE BORN –- I'M PROBABLY OLD ENOUGH TO BE YOUR GRANDPA, YOU KNOW.

**KATONA**: THAT'S TRUE, I SUPPOSE...

**[THE DIs START TO CLEAR OUT OF THE MESS. THE FIVE PLAYERS STAY PUT]**

**CARLOS**: WELL, THAT WAS FUN! REAL NICE OF YOU MILITARY TYPES TO INVITE US AFTER ALL THESE YEARS.

**JACKSON**: IT HAS BEEN A LONG SLOG, HASN'T IT?

**KATONA**: IT DIDN'T SEEM THAT LONG, THOUGH. IT'S LIKE IT WAS JUST YESTERDAY THEY CAME TO US.

**STANDOFF**: REALLY? TO ME IT FEELS LIKE WE'VE BEEN HERE FOREVER.

**KATONA**: COME ON! YOU'VE GOT TO ADMIT THAT THE KIDS HAVE BEEN GROWING UP WAY TOO QUICKLY.

**BASHIR**: I AGREE.

**CARLOS**: I'LL SAY –- THERE'S BARELY ANY FOOD LEFT IN STORAGE. BUT THEN AGAIN, THEY WERE ALWAYS HUNGRY LITTLE BASTARDS, HUH?

**[THE FIVE CHUCKLE]**

**CARLOS**: I REALIZE THIS MAY SOUND WEIRD, BUT I'M REALLY GOING TO MISS THEM.

**KATONA**: YOU'RE NOT ALONE, ESTEBAN. I THINK WE ALL FEEL THAT TO A DEGREE.

**CARLOS**: BUT AT LEAST YOU, DEAN AND GRIFF ARE IN THE MILITARY –- YOU COULD STILL STAY IN TOUCH WITH THEM, COULDN'T YOU? OMID AND ME, WE'RE JUST CIVVIES –- ONCE THE PROJECT CONCLUDES, WE HAVE TO LEAVE AND CAN NEVER TALK ABOUT IT WITH ANYONE, EVER AGAIN.

**BASHIR**: WE KNEW THAT WHEN WE TOOK THE JOB, ESTEBAN.

**CARLOS**: I KNOW, BUT STILL...

**JACKSON**: I WON'T BE HAVING MUCH BETTER LUCK THAN YOU TWO, YOU KNOW. THEY'RE SENDING ME TO THE FRONT ONCE WE'RE DONE HERE.

**KATONA**: YOU MIGHT STILL SEE THEM IN THE FIELD, DEAN.

**JACKSON**: MAYBE, BUT I'M IN THE REGULAR MARINES, AND THEY'LL BE DEPLOYED LIKE COVERT SPEC OPS, RIGHT?

**KATONA**: THEY MAY HAVE TO DO EVERY POSSIBLE KIND OF OP -– THE UNSC CAN'T EXACTLY AFFORD TO BE PICKY RIGHT NOW.

**CARLOS**: IS THE WAR REALLY GOING THAT BADLY?

**STANDOFF**: ARE YOU KIDDING? EVER SINCE COLE DIED IT'S BEEN GOING DEEPER DOWN THE SHITTER EVERY YEAR.

**[THERE IS A BRIEF SILENCE]**

**JACKSON**: SO...WE KNOW I'M GOING TO THE FRONT, LASZLO WILL BE GOING BACK TO COVERT OPS, AND THE COLONEL WILL KEEP COORDINATING AND SUPPORTING THE KIDS FROM HERE. BUT WHAT ABOUT YOU TWO? WHAT DO YOU PLAN TO DO ONCE THIS IS OVER?

**CARLOS**: I SUPPOSE I'LL TAKE A BREAK -– TAKING ADVANTAGE OF THE PAY I'VE BEEN STOCKING UP WHILE DOWN HERE. THEN I GUESS IT'S BACK TO THE CAFETERIA IN THE ONI BUILDING UP AT THE FORT. I CAN'T REALLY PICTURE DOING ANYTHING ELSE, ESPECIALLY AFTER BEING AWAY FROM EVERYTHING ELSE FOR SO LONG. I SUPPOSE I COULD CATCH UP WITH MY BROTHER AND BABYSIT HIS KIDS A LITTLE, BUT HONESTLY? I DON'T KNOW IF I COULD HANDLE NORMAL KIDS AFTER EIGHT YEARS OF BEING AROUND THE ONES HERE.

**JACKSON**: AT LEAST HIS KIDS CAN'T ROB YOU BLIND OR KICK YOUR ASS, RIGHT?

**CARLOS**: (LAUGHS) GOD, I HOPE NOT!

**KATONA**: WHAT ABOUT YOU, OMID?

**BASHIR**: I REQUESTED TO STAY HERE. IN CASE THE AUGMENTATION PROCEDURES GO BADLY, OR IF THEY EVER NEED A SHRINK IN THE FUTURE, I'D LIKE TO BE THERE FOR THEM. BUT ULTIMATELY IT'S UP TO GRIFF AND RICH WHETHER I DO OR NOT.

**STANDOFF**: FOR WHAT IT'S WORTH, YOU'VE GOT MY SUPPORT TO DO THAT. IT'D BE NICE TO KEEP AT LEAST ONE FAMILIAR FACE AROUND A LITTLE LONGER. BUT HOPEFULLY THE KIDS WON'T NEED YOU –- NO OFFENSE.

**BASHIR**: NONE TAKEN. I HOPE EVERYTHING GOES WELL FOR THEM, TOO. BUT IF IT DOESN'T, I WANT TO BE READY.

**KATONA**: THEY'RE STRONGER THAN WE EXPECTED THEM TO BE. THEY'LL PULL THROUGH.

**CARLOS**: I WISH I HAD YOUR OPTIMISM, CAPTAIN.

**BASHIR**: WE COULD ALL USE A LITTLE MORE OPTIMISM THESE DAYS.

**STANDOFF**: NO OFFENSE, BUT I'LL BE OPTIMISTIC WHEN THIS DAMN WAR IS OVER AND WE'RE ALL STILL ALIVE TO EXPERIENCE IT.

**JACKSON**: NO KIDDING.

**CARLOS**: THEN HOW ABOUT WE DRINK TO AN END TO THIS WAR?

**KATONA**: I COULD DEFINITELY GET BEHIND THAT.

**JACKSON**: THOUGHT YOU TOLD ME ONCE YOU DON'T DRINK, SIR.

**KATONA**: I'LL MAKE AN EXCEPTION THIS TIME, SERGEANT.

**[CARLOS POURS FIVE GLASSES AND HANDS THEM OUT]**

**CARLOS**: RIGHT. A TOAST, EVERYONE! FOR AN END TO THIS WAR!

**JACKSON**: AND THAT WE AND OUR KIDS LIVE TO SEE IT!

**KATONA**: AND THAT GRIFF WON'T GO ANY MORE BALD THAN HE ALREADY HAS ANYTIME SOON!

**STANDOFF**: DON'T YOU SASS ME, SON.

**KATONA**: YOU KNOW YOU LOVE IT, GRIFF!

**[THE FIVE BUMP THEIR GLASSES TOGETHER, AND DRINK]**

**STANDOFF**: RIGHT, EVERYBODY GET SOME SHUT-EYE. I WANT EVERYONE AT PEAK EFFICIENCY TOMORROW.

**JACKSON**: YOU GOT IT, SIR.

**BASHIR**: MAKE SURE THAT APPLIES TO YOU TOO - COLONELS NEED TO SLEEP LIKE ANYBODY ELSE.

**STANDOFF**: WHAT, YOU WANT TO TELL ME A DAMN BEDTIME STORY WHILE YOU'RE AT IT, DOC?

**KATONA**: MAKE SURE IT'S ABOUT PRETTY PRINCESSES AND KNIGHTS IN SHINING ARMOR. HE'LL JUST BE AFRAID OF THE MONSTERS UNDER THE BED OTHERWISE.

**STANDOFF**: (SMILING SLIGHTY) WHO TAUGHT YOU TO HAVE A MOUTH LIKE THAT, ANYHOW?

**KATONA**: I'M SELF-TAUGHT, COLONEL. I'M JUST THAT GOOD.

**STANDOFF**: INDEED? NOW GET GOING BEFORE I GET PISSY.

**KATONA**: FINE, I'LL GET GOING. SEE Y'ALL!

**CARLOS**: RIGHT, SWEET DREAMS EVERYONE!

**JACKSON**: YOU GOT IT, ESTEBAN.

**BASHIR**: TO YOU AS WELL.

**STANDOFF**: (MUMBLING TO HIMSELF) YEAH, I WISH.

**[THE FIVE LEAVE THE MESS HALL]**


	4. Chapter 4

_**TOP HONORS**_

_**0800 Hours, May 27th, 2548**_

_**Camp Icarus Wildlife Preserve, Tau Territory**_

_**Tantalus, Epsilon Eriandi System**_

Roger-341 did not now his last name. He knew that once upon a time, years ago, he had known it, but despite all his struggles to maintain his own identity, it had eventually faded into the background. He had been only six years old the last time anyone besides him had said it aloud; for the first few weeks of training, he hadn't bothered, but when he'd felt it slipping away, he had starting saying it every night. That nightly ritual, however, had not lasted. Before long, it had felt wrong; not because the he felt disloyal to the program or, God forbid, to humanity, but to his team.

He might have hated those that kidnapped and inducted him into training against his will, but that hatred did not extend to his team. His team were, as Laszlo had put it, his törzs. It was Swedish, or Scandinavian, or Hungarian, or some other odd language. Roger didn't care; the only thing about it that was important to him was the meaning. His törzs were his kin. His family. His team – they were his törzs. Two months into training, Roger and his team had tried to escape the caves they lived and trained in; while they were unsuccessful, it had cemented their bond and transformed them from a squad into törzs. Roger had stopped repeating his last name that night, and within a year or two, it had faded into the hazy, indistinct past.

It wasn't that Roger hadn't loved his past life – he had, very much. He'd had freedom, independence, agency; his life had been his own, and his path had been his own to choose. Such notions seemed a fevered dream these days. But much as he had loved his life, he hadn't loved his family; after all, he hadn't had any. His father had died in the war, his mother when he was five. But his team – _they_ were his family. To six year old Roger, it had felt like a monstrous betrayal, pretending to still be living his old life. Ignoring the sacrifices his new family made for him, spitting on the bond they had formed.

That had been almost eight years ago. Roger now wished he could remember. He had no doubts about the strength of his team's bond these days; eight years of training with them, spending every waking moment with them, had brought them closer together than brother and sister. But he nonetheless felt robbed. It was just one more strike against him, one more injustice done to him and his törzs. Their futures had been stolen, their identities had been taken, in the service of the "greater good". It did not sit well with Crimson Team. If they thought that they could have escaped – and survived the process – they would have in a heartbeat.

But they were realistic; even if they made it away from Tantalus, the galaxy beyond was an unforgiving place. The alien Covenant had been sweeping through UNSC space for nearly thirty years, killing everyone in their path, and every passing day seemed to bring the human race closer to total extinction. If the war was not won, they would not survive. It was that simple. And so, they submitted to training, submitted to the awful violation of their rights, and were even planning to submit to a dangerous and invasive set of surgeries and bio-chemical injections called augmentation. The upcoming procedure was designed to transform them into superhuman soldiers, ultimate killing machines: SPARTANs.

Their muscle mass would be doubled, and the fibers themselves would be more powerful. Their bones would be injected with chemicals that would increase the density, making them stronger than steel. Their eyesight and hearing would be improved, letting them pick out a needle drop in a sandstorm, or virtually see in the dark. Their reaction time itself would be altered, making them faster than any other humans alive. Augmentation, Crimson had learned, would make them nearly unstoppable, but it would come at a cost. The surgeries were even more dangerous than they were powerful. Roger's SPARTAN class was the third in the line of the near-mythical SPARTAN-II program, and the SPARTAN-II program had a painful history.

Two previous groups had gone through augmentation before them, and less than half had come out of the process unscathed. In the original Class of 2525, thirty candidates had been killed outright, and another dozen been crippled. The second class had fared no better. Worse, both of the first two classes had been carefully genetically screened for superior subjects, who would take better to augmentation. Roger had learned that only a few people in his class – him included – even came close to matching the same requirements. In the days to come, many would undoubtedly die, but the risks of abstaining from augmentation – running from the program – outweighed that of augmentation. The entire team had agreed on that, even those with the lowest matches.

Crimson wasn't supposed to know any of these details, of course. Officially, every single one of the Class Three teams was in the dark on the dangers about to befall them. But then again, Crimson knew a lot of things the other trainees didn't know. Roger and his squad didn't play by the project's rules, and never had. They liked the SPARTAN-II, Laszlo-108, who was training them, but few others in the program, and made no secret of it. What they _did_make secret was the fact that, five months prior, they had attacked the base's computer security systems, and copied every file they could find.

That was why they knew about augmentation and it's dangers, while the other teams remained blissfully unaware. It was why he knew that the genetic matches were so low, while the rest of the class remained in the dark. It was why he knew and myriad of other little details that the rest of the candidates didn't know; that there were dozens of SPARTAN-class commandos operating in secret, that Laszlo had once fought through a brothel on Gilgamesh, and that their units commanding officer, who they'd once hated, had embezzled thousands of dollars trying to acquire better training and equipment to help them. And it was probably why Roger had been distracted enough to lead his entire team right into an enemy ambush.

"Crimson Team," Roger growled with frustration, "Weapons free!"

The order was scarcely needed, really, but with any luck, it would give their assailants pause. Roger flattened himself to the earth, pulsing the trigger of the MA5B Assault Rifle held in front of his chest. The weapon barked, draining a quarter of it's sixty round magazine in the second it took him to land on the ground and settle into a hasty firing position. Recoil from the high caliber automatic weapon slammed hard against his shoulder, but Roger steadied the rifle with practiced ease. He'd been firing the weapon since he was six years old; the motion was almost as natural as breathing.

Roger had no idea if he'd hit the target or if the enemy had a bead on him, but he rolled just in case they still had a line of sight on him. Roger's Team had no sooner cleared the concealment of the treeline at their rear when they had come under fire. The biometric readout in the helmet of his Semi-Powered Infiltration armor showed Roger just how costly his mistake had been; in the corner of his HUD, Maggie-327's vital signs indicated that her pulse had flatlined.

Roger swore and fired another fifteen round burst, laying down a horizontal line of fire. A dilapidated, bombed out shell of an old farm building lay directly ahead of his team, the remnant of past skirmishes. Roger didn't fire at the building itself, however – he walked a line of rounds fifteen meters to the right of it, and was rewarded with a faint cry of pain. Roger smirked and chuckled, checking his HUD. His IFF tracker indicated James-319 and Jacob-303, his team's chief point men, were slipping along the newly weakened right flank. Roger could have brought up a live feed from their helmet mounted cameras, but he had other worries. That bit of proactive thinking, independently pressing the flank, had to be James' doing. Roger would have been angry, but it was exactly the move he would have ordered himself. Instead of speaking up, he growled deep in throat and popped to one knee, emptying his magazine to cover his teammates advance.

No reaction followed this time; the aggressors were likely bunkered down, now that one of them had been hit. Roger seethed with rage. These assholes should have known better than to fuck with his team. He reached behind him and withdrew a replacement magazine from the ammo pouch on his waist. Normally Roger would have slotted it in automatically, but he glanced down, for the briefest of moments, to confirm nothing was amiss.

Sitting at the top of the magazine, quadruple stacked, were a series of 7.62x40mm rounds. But, just as he expected, these were misshapen in a slight, almost imperceptible way. Roger slammed the magazine home without a second thought, content. The rounds inside were, like all the ammunition being exchanged, practice munitions; tactical training rounds, ballisticaly near-identical ammo with a proximity-fuse paint shell. They were designed to be fired exactly like a traditional round, and would explode ten centimeters from the target, spraying it with a brightly colored chemical solution that would induce numbness or even paralysis. The effect – sharp, extreme pain, followed by loss of sensation and dexterity – was as close the UNSC could come to simulating a real bullet's impact.

TTR was the standard issue stun round for all UNSC personnel undergoing training. As realistic and harrowing as this exercise was, that's exactly what it was: training. The SPARTAN-II Class III Top Honors program, Roger knew, had been patterned off a similar regimen undergone by members of the parallel SPARTAN-III Program: take a ten kilometer square area, and throw each squad into it with only two objectives. Eliminate the other teams…and survive their attempts to do the same.

Right now, Roger was more worried about the former than the latter.

"Mica, give me something on these assholes." Roger fired a short burst, still tracking James and Jacob on his HUD. "Location, strength, identity, anything."

"I know exactly jack shit," Mica-319's voice sounded through his helmet. "Sir."

Roger growled and fired another burst, only to duck and roll to his right as opposing fire scythed through the bushes next to him. He had to move, or he was going to be dead before he could rally his team. But the only good cover ahead was the farm house, and that wasn't going to be reachable. It was plain and simple, really; Crimson were in over their heads, and no matter of skill was going to salvage their bad positioning. They needed to move up.

"James, Jacob, do you have visual?" He tucked his head as suppressing shots whizzed overhead.

"Maybe." James was completely out of Roger's line of sight, but his IFF indicator lit up as he spoke. Roger made a mental note of his position. "Something real ugly looking maybe fifteen meters on our left. Might be one of these assholes shooting at us."

"Copy." Roger risked a quick peek up. The photo-reactive panels built into each suit of SPI provided a limited measure of invisibility, enough to fool the untrained eye or delay detection for a few crucial moments. Roger was betting on the assumption that their attackers hadn't zeroed his position too precisely. "Move up and hit them hard from the side. These dickheads want to mess with us, then we take them out."

Roger ducked his head down again as the rustle of bushes in the corner of his peripheral vision triggered alarm bells. A burst of fire cleaved the air just above him. He'd seen enough. The advance to the farmhouse itself would be dangerous, but if he made it that far, he'd have plenty of room to maneuver. He just had to get their first.

"Mica, you see that shooter?" Roger drew a stun grenade from his belt pouch and primed it in his hands.

"I see where he _was_." Mica sounded annoyed. "Any good shooter will have moved – "

"Then track where he went and keep his head down." Roger tossed the grenade, paused, and scowled. "Moving up."

James and Jacob were busy, and Mica already had a job to do. With Maggie down, there was no one to keep Roger covered. With any luck, he wouldn't need it, however. Roger sprang to his feet as the grenade rocked the ground, rifle up and firing the moment he was. Movement caught his eye and he drained a long burst in it's direction, trying not to break stride. He was halfway to the farm house front when his opponents opened fired in retaliation. A haphazard burst – likely fired on the move from a bad position – tore up the ground in front of him, then walked upward.

Roger was moving the moment the fire opened up, but he wasn't faster than a bullet. A pair of rounds hit hard against his plating, one in the side and one in the arm. The pain and force doubled him over, but he transitioned the fall into a roll and came up out of the shooter's line of sight. Angry and full of adrenaline, he hit the wall of the farmhouse and leapt through the nearest window, weapon out.

Just as he'd expected, the building was empty; it was just too obvious of a position for any team setting up an ambush to consider. Roger cleared the one room building quickly, sauntering up to a window and glancing at his HUD. James and Jacob were twenty five meters from his position, and with any luck, some of their adversaries were caught in the middle.

"I'm in the farm house, hit but not compromised." Roger checked his plates. They were dented and caved where the rounds had hit, and TTR covered the plating. Real SPI could survive a respectable amount of ballistic damage, and the training rounds were meant to reflect that. They were by no means invincible, but it would take more than a few glancing shots to drop one of them permanently. "Status report, now."

"Got at least one dickbag between us and you, boss." Jacob was winded on the other end of the line. "Plus an outhouse, utility shed, and some heavy machinery. Bit of a mouse trap."

"Getting some movement from your left flank." Mica paused and a shot rang out. "Slowing them, but they're still moving."

Roger vaulted out of the window, MA5B prepared. They had to move sooner, rather than later, else they be caught out of positon. "James and Jacob, push towards me. Put a round in that dickbag."

The back lot was overgrown with tall grass and the line of sight was hampered by crossrunning fences in addition to the obstacles Jacob had noted. Roger stacked against a tractor, then rolled under, emerging with rifle ready to fire up at any targets. None presented themselves. The IFF marker showed James sweeping along the field side while Jacob swung deep. Roger sprinted for the utility shed and tucked up against it, listening. In the background, two more loud shots rang out. In this terrain, Mica wasn't going to be able to hold four other SPARTANs in place for long, even with a sniper rifle.

"Jacob here, got movement." Roger noted his teammate's position as the point man spoke. "Dropping low towards you James."

"319 here, got it." James' beacon froze in place. "But I think we're – "

Gunfire – long extended bursts – broke the still air and Roger was moving before he even really realized it. There was too much of it – too long, too loud – to just be James finishing their opponent. Roger broke left, swearing as he spotted the flashes of muzzle flare through a fence and a stack of moldy wooden planks. On the biometric readouts in his HUD, Jacob flatlined. They'd been too slow.

"Crimson Team, fall back, fall back." Roger clenched his teeth and emptied half his magazine in the direction of the flashes, ducking below a fence and heading right along the side of the outhouse. James broke onto the comm just as another burst of gunfire cracked and drowned him out. Something man shaped and unfriendly looking appeared in front of Roger, and he finished his magazine putting a long burst in it's direction. The figure staggered, but ducked into cover and Roger lost his bead.

There was no time to pursue. Roger tossed a stun grenade ahead of him, then ducked right into a side passageway and emerged on a beeline for the trees. The grenade detonated with another deep rumble, but Roger doubted it had done anything but delay his target. Mica squeezed off another three pairs of shots in front of him, and the yelling that followed gave Roger hope he'd make the tree line alive. Fifteen meters passed and he slid into cover behind one of the trees, more or less intact.

In cover, he spun and slipped into a firing position, searching for a target. None presented itself, even as James broke from concealment and ran for the cover of the forest. Roger scowled, even as his teammate safely slid into cover ten meters to his right. There were at least two injured enemies on the other side of the field, but he had two men down. Their position was untenable.

"James, did you get the dickbag?" Roger kept the frustration out of his voice but let the cold anger remain. His team would know it wasn't directed at them.

"Affirmative boss." James had a warm air in his tone, but his brevity told Roger he was worried. "Confirmed down."

Roger leveled his gaze towards the farm house and scowled. That was one small bit of good news, but it wasn't enough. Even with the damage they had done, any sort of counter attack would be suicide with just the three of them. With a growl, he opened his TacMap and surveyed the surrounding area. They were closer to the center of the combat area than to the edges, and their engagement would soon attract the attention of the other team – if it hadn't already. As much as he would have loved to take the fight to the assholes who had dropped Maggie and Jacob, it wasn't going to happen.

"James, start pulling back." Roger spoke tersely as he withdrew a pair of stun grenades from his belt and began attaching trip wires to them. His ordnance belt was getting much to light for his liking, but they would need something to slow the other team down if they tried to pursue. "Mica, keep eyes on them and keep heads down until I'm done covering our tracks. I'll mark trap locations with a waypoint then we'll drop low and swing north."

It wasn't Roger's preferred solution to the problem, but it was the only option he had left. Even if these exercises were little more than a glorified game, he still wanted to win. And just like in the real world, the only way to really win was to survive.

When he had been told the TTR sensors on the SPI armor issued to them for Top Honors would be modified to withstand an accurate amount of ballistic damage, Connor-338 hadn't worried too much. Unlike most of the team leaders within the Ares Contingent, Connor was a heavily specialized combatant – perhaps one of the most specialized in the entire group. It had taken mere months when training began for Connor to realize he had a particular gift with rifles, and years of practice had honed that gift into a talented mastery that put every other SPARTAN on base – including even Laszlo-108 himself – to shame.

His weapon of choice, the SRS99-S2 AM Sniper Rifle, held four 14.5x114mm Fin-Stabilized Discarding Sabot rounds in it's magazine. Effective at upwards of two thousand yards, the full combat model was commonly used to put down _tanks_ before the emergence of the Covenant. Since that time, it's pinpoint accuracy and incredible stopping power had made it the go-to weapon for UNSC sharpshooters everywhere. SPI armor was durable, but it could hardly stand up to that sort of firepower. With the TTR modifications to the rounds and the trainees armor, the Sniper Rifle would fall well short of such power, but nonetheless, should have been able to take down a target with a single shot.

_Should have_ being the operative term.

Connor hit the ground with a thud and kicked desperately as Draco-304, the contingent's designated living tank, cannoned into him. Draco was big – and much, much stronger than Connor. The other trainee wrestled against him, trying to pin him in place, but he slipped a hand to his hip and clasped his sidearm. Draco slapped against him as Connor brought it up, knocking it from his hands, but that gave him the room he needed to maneuver. Connor headbutted Draco just above his armor's collar seal, then rolled clear and broke free of the scuffle.

Draco wasn't quick enough to follow. Now that they were untangled, it was clear the bigger SPARTAN wasn't feeling too hot. He staggered at Connor, throwing a high, badly telegraphed punch_._Connor ducked beneath the blow, rolling diagonally and slipping behind Draco. His sniper rifle – knocked away when Draco tackled him – lay at his feet. In the split second it took for Draco to turn, reach for his sidearm, and begin to raise it, Connor snatched the SRS99 and snapped it to his shoulder. He squeezed the trigger just as Draco raised his pistol. A crack echoed through the rubble, and Draco crumpled, faceplate covered in red paint and body paralyzed at his armor's command.

"And stay down." He muttered, climbing to his feet. He grabbed his pistol from the cracked pavement, and took off running.

Connor and his unit, Tan Team, had been hot on the trail of another squad for the better part of five hours. Lucy-329, one of Connor's teammates, had picked up the trail, and they'd been shadowing the other team ever since. They'd managed to get close enough two hours prior to confirm it was Jack-316's Olive Team, but they hadn't been able to get positioned in time to attack, and nearly lost the trail entirely. Only thanks to Lucy's skill had they even been able to follow, but they'd yet to get another shot at taking Olive down.

Lucy had been engrossed in the task of tracking Olive an hour earlier when Mellissa-332, Connor's de-facto second in command, had noticed something was wrong. Tan Team was no longer simply the hunters – they were also the hunted. Some other team had begun shadowing them, following, waiting for an ideal time to strike. Connor had continued their pursuit of Olive, keeping up appearances, waiting for a moment to eliminate their trail. Opportunity had come in the form of a sprawling old mining town-a jungle of instacrete pre-fabs and warehouses overrun by the woods and crumbling after a century and a half of abandonment.

Connor had ordered the rest of the team to move slow and head into town square, while he circled wide and took position atop a building on the town's nearest hill. All Tan had to do was make themselves look vulnerable enough that their shadow would risk an attack, then Connor could hit them from afar and catch them off guard. Even if an entire team pressed them, Connor felt confident his squad could hold them off long enough for him to thin the ranks. They were the best team in the whole contingent. Things should have been a walk in the park.

But as Laszlo had taught every single one of them, no plan survived contact with the enemy. Especially when the enemy were SPARTANs.

"Tan Two to Tan Lead!" Connor rounded a corner at a dead sprint as Mellissa's voice came over the unit com, strained. "We've been engaged! Hostiles front and flanking!"

"Tan Lead here," Connor cleared the corner and returned to his sprint in one smooth move. "Bunker down and watch your sides. I got jumped by Draco, but I'm on my way. Keep your heads on straight, guys."

"You got jumped by Draco?" Mellissa sounded pissed now. "Why didn't you just shoot him?"

"I did." Connor let a long pause hang in the air as he charged down two blocks. "Took more than one to drop him. Draco means Violet Team, which means Regulus will be trying his usual and looking to outmaneuver you. Eyes high and stop him, got it?"

The comm crackled like Mellissa was about to respond, then abruptly cut out. Nearby, gunfire echoed through the streets in long bursts. Violet had to know Draco was down, and they must have decided to press their attack before Connor got back. He swore, listening to the suppressive fire rattling through the streets. Violet Team's usual operating method was to let Draco-304 draw fire and soak up a little punishment while Regulus-302 scaled buildings and took advantage of any sort of unorthodox verticality to confuse. Even with Draco down, Regulus was probably up to his usual tricks. Melinda-323 and Anne-306 would be the ones laying down suppressive fire. And Kamala-354 would be waiting to take advantage of any chink in Tan Team's armor and open it with lethal force.

Most of the other teams in the division would likely be going down right about now. But Tan Team wasn't most teams.

Connor turned and ran straight at the tallest building he could find, a three story housing structure with a second story outdoor balcony. He kicked against the walls and tossed his rifle straight up, onto the balcony. With a grunt of exertion he kicked off the wall, reaching up and wrapping armored gauntlets along the base of the balcony. He lifted himself up, climbing towards the top bar and swinging himself over. He landed, scooped his sniper rifle from the ground, turned, and acquired his target a hearbeat later. He fired and didn't even stay to watch the target drop.

A hundred fifty meters away, Anne dropped to the pavement just as she broke from cover to advance, a florescent splotch of paint spread across her chest. Connor took three steps towards the third story and jumped, gripping the extended edge with one hand and pulling himself up one armed. He twisted a leg up, then rolled on to the top, never letting go of his rifle. Without hesitation, he rose to a crouch and fired again.

This time, it was Melinda who dropped, faceplate colored red. Connor paused for the first time in what felt like hours – even if it was minutes at best – and scanned the area below. He couldn't see his team-a good thing, paradoxically. Connor knew they wouldn't have gone down this quickly, and if he couldn't see them, it meant Regulus and Kamala probably couldn't either.

A pair of rounds cracked against the buildings wall half a meter below Connor and he hastily backed away from the edge, expecting a kill shot at any moment. It had to be Regulus firing; Kamala probably would have hit him. That, he decided, was good news and bad news. It was obviously good he hadn't gone down, but Kamala was dangerous. Connor would have preferred her focusing on him instead of his team.

"Tan Leader to Tan Team, status." Connor glanced around the roof, looking for anything that might help him. "Two more down, ankle-bait and the pyscho still at large."

"Copy, lead." Amber-373, one of Connor's squadmates, answered tersely. Two and Four got flashbanged. Could use a little help."

"Could use a little myself actually…" Connor found nothing useful on the roof and glanced down at his ammo belt. Ordnance was going to be vital later in the exercise and he didn't particularly like the idea of parting with any of it this early on, but he didn't see any immediate solution that didn't put his team in even more risk. "Ankle-bait has a bead on my position, and I can't get eyes on."

"You need eyes on is all?" Jackson-348 laughed, "I got that covered. Post office, thirty meters our right."

"You're in the mayor's building?" Connor visualized the town square, trying to piece together the layout from the scattered snapshots he'd accumulated between the hilltop and his current perch.

"Affirmative lead." Jackson's voice was calm. "Three's covering the front door and I've got our rear."

"Keeps your eyes open for the pyscho, then." Connor risked poking his head out long enough to check for signs of movement. Another shot splattered against the edge. "Don't forget two years ago. Kamala could hit from behind any moment."

"What about ankle-bait?" Amber asked. "We got a plan for him too?"

"You could say that…" Connor withdrew a grenade from his hip pouch, then positioned a spare magazine for his Sniper Rifle next to him. "Three? You're on point. Advance on Mr. Ankle-Bait and put him down hard, on my signal. '47 special. I'll keep him so busy he won't even notice you."

Connor paused and took a deep breath. Even if he knew, intellectually, that everything was simulated, it all still felt quite real. That was the point, after all. Some of the other trainees – hell, even some of the other team _leaders –_ might have relished the sense of danger, basked in the excitement, but Connor did not. The realness of the danger did not give him pause, but it didn't excite him either. What he was planning to do was going to be risky. A risk he was willing to take perhaps, to protect his team, but undeniably dangerous.

"Three." Connor exhaled explosively and tossed the grenade. "Execute."

In perfect, finely tuned control, Connor rose from his crouch and started running. The nearest building was a full story lower but at most five feet away; he fired his sniper rifle one handed towards the post office and leapt the gap, letting the empty magazine drop into the alleyway below. His other hand came up, smoothly inserting the fresh magazine, as the grenade sailed into the open in front of the office. Connor's eyes darted to the helmet-cam display of Amber's perspective displayed on his HUD, and he caught a flash of movement as Regulus ducked into cover inside his building, fully ready to weather the grenade's cloud of simulated shrapnel.

The same display bounced and shook as Amber sprinted into the street, taking advantage of Regulus's distraction. She leapt off the wide staircase and hugged the building, out of any line of sight the Violet Team leader might have. Connor hit the roof and rolled, coming up with sniper rifle primed and ready. A shadow flashed across the wall behind the window, but it disappeared as quick as it had come. Connor wasted no time waiting for an opportunity to present itself; he ran for the next nearest building and jumped into the gap, sliding down the wall in plain sight.

The absence of a shot in his side informed Connor quite nicely that Regulus must have still been bunkering down, waiting for the grenade to detonate. Amber, still in the street, was well within the blast radius now. She ignored that and kept up her pace, stalking towards the post office building quick and deliberately. Connor slid to five feet off the ground, then let himself drop, crouching as he landed to absorb the impact. He had seconds, at best, before Regulus realized he'd been played.

Seconds was hopefully all he needed. Connor ran into the street, legs pumping in a dead sprint towards a tree that had been planted at least a century before, as decoration. The monster had grown well beyond it's intended size, cracking the sidewalk, roots spilling over into street. At least seven seconds had elapsed since Connor had thrown the grenade, and Violet Team's leader was infamous for his fast-thinking. Regulus _had_ to know something wasn't right.

And know he did. Just as Connor reached the cover of the tree, a burst of gunfire filled the air and a burst of rounds whizzed through the air just next to him. Connor grunted and slid into cover, careful not to hit too hard. The photo-reactive panels that gave SPI it's trademark quasi-invisibility were delicate equipment. Any edge he had was going to be crucial in the next few moments.

Another burst pounded into the tree, shaking it. The thick old growth held up handily, and Connor leaned out and snapped a shot off, hoping to draw more attention. Amber was nearly at Regulus' building now, pacing forward slowly, deliberately, an M7 Submachine-Gun trained on the nearest window. The rate of Regulus' fire increased, nearly winging Connor as he ducked back into safety. The snapped shot hadn't given the Violet leader a single moment of pause.

"Amber, I've got him pretty well fixated." Connor glanced nervously at the sides of the tree. It was just barely wide enough to cover his entire body. "Do you have ingress ready?"

"Affirmative Lead," Amber gestured pointedly at a window on the building with her SMG. "But it's not fifteen feet from ankle-bait's position, and looks like an open hallway."

"Copy." Connor weighed his options. "Stand by for my go."

Connor tried to remember how many shots Regulus fired, but drew a blank. He hadn't thought to keep count, and he kicked himself for it. Regulus usually carried an MA5K Carbine, and it's thirty round magazine could be anywhere from freshly topped off to nearly empty. If he broke cover, he had no way to know how much ammo Regulus could put down range. But the alternative – staying put, letting Amber charge in and potentially get hurt…no, it wasn't even a question in Connor's mind.

"Three, go."

Without even waiting for Regulus to finish his current burst, Connor rolled away from the tree and came up sprinting. The suddenness of his out of the blue suicidal move probably saved his life; Regulus took a split second too long to pivot, and in that time, Connor spotted his window for himself. He snapped another shot off, knowing full well it would likely miss, without pausing in his run. The road ahead was nearly devoid of further cover, which made running next to useless.

Connor had two more rounds left in his magazine. He fired again, this time pinging the brickwork above Regulus. He might have been the best long range marksmen in the contingent, but at a run, with a sniper rifle? Connor was well aware he wasn't anywhere near that good. He dove for the ground, going prone behind a segment of sidewalk that had bulged upward from some unknown event. It covered maybe half of him, but the rubble surrounding it would hopefully blur his position, giving him a second or two longer than he would have otherwise managed.

It also gave him an excellent line of sight on Regulus, who had ducked below to reload – an action that probably had spared Connor a bullet in the side. As he came up, he came up firing. Connor pressed himself into the ground, hoping to make himself as small a target as possible. Regulus' fire was clearly hadn't been aimed with an actual target in mind, however, and Connor realized he had done his job _too_well. Regulus didn't see him, which meant he was that much likelier to regain his situational awareness and notice Amber moving up on him. She was right under the window now, moments from breaching. Connor held his breath, and did what he had to do.

While he could see Regulus relatively fine, his rifle was out of position for a precision shot. He had landed just wrong, and he prayed it wouldn't come back to bite him. His final round sailed a foot above Regulus and just to his right, splattering the wall behind him with red paint. Regulus flinched, but didn't drop into cover, didn't move a muscle. He had always been aggressive and bold, fearless. And quick thinker that he was, had definitely been counting Connor's shots.

The moment seemed to take far longer than physically possible. Connor stared, feeling the spent sniper rifle kick against his arms with recoil, watching Regulus stare back. As the other trainee leveled his rifle and steadied himself, sighting on Connor's position, his body language spoke volume. Regulus was at ease, confident. Behind the mirrored visor, Connor would have been unsurprised to see him smiling.

Then the burble of submachine gun fire crackled through the air, and the post office lit up with muzzle flare. Regulus stiffened as his chest plate instantly transformed into an ugly canvas of red splatters, the repeated impacts driving him backwards until he toppled to the ground, immobilized. Connor let go of a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding, and rose to his feet, too hyped on adrenaline to feel anything. From afar, he watched as Amber paced forward and delivered a coup de grace, putting a final burst dead center into Regulus' faceplate.

"Three to everybody, all clear in here." Amber sounded breathless and the tiniest bit worried. "You hit, lead?"

"Negative." Connor automatically changed magazines as he rose to his feet. "Everyone else clear?"

"Two here, feeling a little better." To Connor's surprise, Mellissa was the first to respond. "Four's coming around too. Everything's hazy, but we're not comatose."

"Five?" Connor jogged over to the general area where he'd thrown the unarmed grenade and found it after a moment of searching. He slid it back into it's pouch on his belt, a bit surprised the ploy had worked. "Any sign of the pyscho?"

Dead air was all that answered him. Connor keyed the comm again, a feeling of dread settling into the pit of his stomach, when Jackson finally came through.

"Lead, I'm hit – " Jackson's voice cut off with a hiss of static, but it bore the clear sounds of a man in pain. " – Took one in the leg and Kamala blew past me, I think she's heading for Mellissa and Lucy…"

Connor was already running as Jackson trailed off, sounding disoriented and exhausted. The training rounds weren't designed explicitly to cause pain, but Kamala had always been an expert at that. Even if Jackson wasn't permanently down, he could pass out at any moment. Connor just ran, pulse pounding, desperately trying to reach his friends. If Amber was behind him, he couldn't tell. There was no time to check, but she could handle herself. It was Mellissa and Lucy that needed him now.

"Lead, coming in!" Connor charged through the open door, rifle up, visualizing the layout in his mind. It was a small two story building, with only two entrances and limited office space above. No elevator, just an ancient staircase in the corner. He sprinted up it, fighting back the tiniest sliver of panic. "Mellissa! Lucy! Status report, now!"

No response came. Connor rounded the corner of the stairs, charging into the room. It was an open floor plan, but the sightlines were hampered with a dozen cubicles. A burst of fire rang out and he flattened against the nearest one, but a moment later realized it hadn't been directed at him. He rose to his feet, and ducked into the open. It was clear. He paced forward, listening intently for any sign of movement.

"Connor, this is Lucy." Connor almost jumped at the sound of his teammates voice, and chided himself for getting so tense. "Kamala's in here. We drove her back but I don't think she's hit…"

"Copy. Northwest corner?" Connor glanced down at his motion tracker as movement flickered along the edge of it's sensor range.

"Affirmative." Lucy dropped a waypoint on her location, and Connor altered course correspondingly. The room should have been well lit by the multitude of windows ringing it, but the ancient things were muddied with age. The sunlight came through hazily, casting long shadows across the vacant rooms.

Connor reached the end of a long hallway, and Lucy and Mellissa's IFF tags appeared at the edge of his radar. It was empty of any red dots, superficially indicating the absence of a nearby threat. Connor wasn't fooled and kept his rifle up and ready. SPI's motion tracking was notorious for missing to slow, deliberate movements; Kamala could be anywhere, stalking him.

Even as he felt his way through the building towards his friends, Connor couldn't help but wonder at what Kamala's game was. She had to know that she couldn't face Tan in a straight up fight. Connor knew his team was good; she might have wounded Jackson, but she'd taken him by surprise. The fact that Mellissa and Lucy were still standing made it clear to him that she was out of her depth with his squad. Granted, she was arguably the deadliest member of Violet Team, but even so – she had to know she was outmatched. Connor had a moment to wonder whether this whole attack had been a diversion – a feint, to get Tan more worried about surviving her than following her.

Then the gunfire began in earnest.

Connor swore under his breath and took off at a run, as his motion tracker exploded into a messy array of red and white. Something big and electrical crashed to the ground ahead of him, followed by another to his right. His tracker swam with phantom dots, white points obscuring any trace of Kamala's movement. He could hear Mellissa swearing up a storm, as he sprinted through the storm. Suppressive fire – whether from his friends or Kamala, he couldn't be sure – drowned out the particulars, but Connor got the gist of things. It seemed he'd underestimated the Psycho.

He was maybe ten meters from his teammates when Kamala finally pinged on the motion tracker. Connor's heart plummeted into his stomach; she'd somehow managed to sneak past Mellissa and Lucy and hit them from their rear flank, putting the two of them between Connor and herself. Connor twisted around a corner and took in the situation with one quick deliberate glance; Lucy crouched behind a desk and computer monitor, firing her submachine gun into the darkness beyond her, and Mesllisa, shotgun in hand, bounding from cover to cover, trying to push up.

Connor brought his sniper rifle up and activated the scope, trying to zero in on where Lucy was firing. Just as the integrated sight appeared on his HUD, a tell-tale clank echoed through the dusty halls. Connor dropped into a crouch and slid back behind the wall on instinct, before the sound had totally processed as a grenade. Kamala must have cooked it – something dangerous with the standard UNSC M9 HE-DP Frag, but well within her skill level – and it detonated mere moments after it landed, spraying "shrapnel" against the walls. Connor gritted his teeth against the concussive force of the ovepressure wave, then swung out from his cover, finger on the trigger.

Mellissa's advance had been halted, but both her and Lucy looked unharmed. They had reacted almost as quickly as Connor, sliding into cover as soon as Kamala's explosive landed. Connor swung his rifle towards the darkness and tensed on the trigger, but Mellissa rose from her crouch, now holding an MA37 Assault Rifle, and blocked his shot. Connor sidestepped, trying to clear his line, but Kamala had already moved. The Violet Team soldier darted right, firing an extended burst as she sprinted in and out of the cover offered by the cubicles. Connor realized with a cold feeling that her maneuver was designed specifically to get her out of his line of fire.

In front of him, Lucy and Mellissa scrambled to try and counter. Mellissa pushed forward, putting as much lead in the air as possible, trying to predict where Kamala would pop up next – without much success. Lucy meanwhile pulled back – firing more sparingly with her SMG, despite it's deeper magazine – and clearly just trying to get clear of the whole mess. Connor slipped sideways into a side passageway, turning right and emerging into a cramped, low cubicle. Kamala finished her flanking maneuver and pressed forward, just as Mellissa's magazine ran dry.

It was like watching a freighter collision in slow motion. As Mellissa dropped her magazine and scrambled to get into cover, Kamala emerged, SPI armor fully de-cloaked and olive drab armor clear to the world to see. Connor watched it develop as if time had slowed to a crawl, unable to raise his rifle in the tight quarters, unable to do anything but watch. Lucy's hasty retreat had dragged her out of position to cover Mellissa, and Violet's psycho had her dead to rights.

No, it wasn't going to happen. Connor raged inside, moving forward. He would not lose a squad mate to _Violet Team_, not in some damned training simulation. The floor ahead of him was essentially a large open space, devoid of any cover besides a few very permeable magazine stands with pages long rotted away. The moment he landed, he'd be in the open, easy pickings after Mellissa was down if he didn't save her. Connor didn't hesitate, didn't pause for a single moment. There was no time for doubt, only time to get it done. If he didn't hit his target, things would be over for him.

He vaulted the wall of the cubicle, left arm pushing off with every ounce of strength his adrenaline fueled muscles could offer. He lifted clear of the wall, sniper rifle swinging behind him, never once tearing his gaze from Mellissa and Kamala. His friend twisted as she leapt for cover, trying to minimize her profile, shock written all over her frame. She hadn't expected Kamala to come at them this fast, this aggressively. Kamala leaned forward, rifle swinging down and around, deadly intense. In her mirrored golden visor, Connor again caught sight of himself, swinging forward, part acrobat and part warrior.

He blinked.

His sniper rifle cleared the low wall, snapped up to his shoulder as his legs kicked into a crash, and he fired. In the quarter meter open space between the top of Mellissa's shoulder and the wall of the nearest cubicle, the big bore round cut through the air faster than the speed of sound. Kamala's head snapped violently back, her entire body crumpling unceremoniously to the ground. Connor blinked again, expecting something more – for his body to be shaking, for her to fire as she fell, for his feet to skid out from under him, for another team to come pouring through the door firing. Nothing came; he held a simple crouch, rested his rifle in his hand, and calmly exhaled.

Mellissa landed with a crash, scampering into cover. The frantic energy of her movement was a sharp contrast to the stillness that had settled over the rest of the room. Connor rose wearily, relaxing his tense muscles. Lucy emerged from cover scanning the room suspiciously, and Mellissa stopped squirming into cover and looked up. To her credit, the shock of glancing back and seeing Kamala's still form was well hidden. If Connor hadn't lived every day for the past eight years with her and the others, he was sure he would have missed it.

"Thanks for saying clear, Lead." Mellissa grumbled as she climbed to her feet.

"Everyone good?" Connor tried his best to set his tone to business. "Four, you ok?"

"Nothing but a few sore knees, Lead." Lucy rested her hand on his shoulder reassuringly, her tone much warmer than Mellissa's. "Thanks for the save, Connor."

"Three to lead." The moment broke as Amber came over the com line. "I'm with five, and he's not moving so well. You need to get down here, sir."

"Copy that." Connor checked his mission clock against when the engagement had started. It had been over fifteen minutes since Draco had first tackled him – they needed to get moving before another team decided to finish them off. There was no way their skirmish would have gone unnoticed. "Tan Team, marking a waypoint for rendezvous. Two, on point."

Working his way down the stairs, Connor ran through the engagement in his mind. Parts had been too close for comfort, but they'd all come out the other side alive, and that was ultimately what mattered. Connor was satisfied with his team's performance.

Even so, as Mellissa darted into the street and checked their route for threats, Connor reminded himself not to get complacent. Violet weren't slouches by any means, but they were hardly the biggest threat on the field. There were undoubtedly more difficult fights still to come.

"Gold Actual to all points, hold position." Inside her SPI suit's sealed helmet, Jacky-359's radio crackled faintly. "Gold Two, status update."

"No contacts, Actual." Jacky, on point, listened as Mason-317, her team's marksman and rearguard, spoke his piece. "Rear flank clear."

"Gold Three?" Matt-363, Gold Actual, and Jacky's squad leader, turned his attention to her.

"No contacts yet, sir." Jacky replied, scanning what she could see of the landscape before her. "But we're almost at the end of the canyon, Actual. Soon as we're in the open, things might be a whole different story."

For the briefest of moments, the radio channel went silent. Jacky knew Matt was mulling over their options, planning what to do next. Since they'd dropped into the exercise two hours prior, Matt had kept them moving – cautiously, but quickly. As they'd maneuvered, they'd kept their eyes open for any and every sign they could find of the other teams. Ten kilometers, on paper, sounded like a relatively large area; put ten squads of SPARTAN trainees into the same area however, and it compressed rapidly. Gold had noted at least three engagements so far, and done their best to maneuver themselves out of the line of fire. They'd wait to engage the enemy, at least for now.

As best they could tell, they weren't the only looking for strategic positions instead of rushing into the fray. A little under twenty minutes beforehand, Jacky had noticed clear signs of another squad – possibly even two – in their area and heading towards each other. When she'd alerted Matt, he'd contemplated looking for a spot where they might be able to engage the winner at an advantage, but decided against it. As best they could determine, the fighting so far had mostly been limited to the central areas of the arena. That meant other teams would undoubtedly be moving for the outskirts, looking for somewhere safe to regroup, and Gold had no intention of engaging some team only to get blindsided by a second force. Matt instead had opted to get them out of dodge, and let the others thin each other out.

"Move out Gold Three." Matt said at last, waving them forward. "Two, return to formation and establish proximity rearguard."

On point, Jacky moved up quickly but cautiously, her eyes locked front. When Gold had opted to maneuver out of the thick of things, they'd found their best option to be a long, steep, canyon trail. Matt's TacMap had informed them that the canyon was part of a high mesa that stretched out beyond the westward boundary of the arena, sweeping into the area again much farther north. The canyon itself was the remains of an old river gorge, water long dried out.

The walls, at least a hundred fifty meters high, would have been nearly impossible for another team to scale and gave them handy protection from flanking maneuvers. The obvious issue, of course, was their vulnerability in front and from behind. The skinny passage afforded little in the way of cover, outside of the winding twists and turns of it's walls; every time Gold rounded a corner, they were open to attack.

That was where Jacky came in, naturally. On point, well ahead of the rest of the team, she kept her eyes peeled for even the smallest sign that something was amiss, ready to spring into action. At least in theory, if they did make contact, Jacky could warn the team, rush the enemy, and draw attention long enough for the others to get into position to either support her attack or cover her retreat.

In theory, of course. Jacky had always been a very observant and precise individual, a skill she'd honed alongside her others during training. She watched everything, with a particular eye for little details – the shifts in eye movements and should position that could clue her into someone's emotional state, the intricate twists and rises of terrain that told the story of a position's tactical strengths and weaknesses. She'd realized immediately upon entering the canyon that given the topography, she'd be hard pressed to protect the team, even on point. She'd told Matt, but hadn't managed to sway him. It was their only truly viable route to move north, away from the fighting, unless they wanted to risk bumping into another team on open ground. Jacky accepted his decision without hesitation, electing to keep her eyes open extra wide. In Gold Team, they respected the chain of command; Matt was the squad leader, and his decision was final. All of them trusted him to make the right call.

"Gold Three to Gold Actual," Jacky keyed her comm as she neared the final bend in the canyon. She ducked her head out, taking in the bulk of the detail of the terrain beyond their narrow walls. The gorge ended startlingly sharply, feeding into a rock field. "Confirming eyes on post-canyon terrain. Dirt pack and shale, poor vegetation, large rocks, interrupted sightlines forty meters north, medium sized ridge on our eastern flank."

"Access to the ridge?" Matt asked, sounding like he was caught up in thought. "Cover for advancement?"

"Sufficient cover to move north, western routes vulnerable." Jacky slipped around the bend fully, MA5K Carbine at the ready. She was perhaps her most vulnerable now. SPI might have provided some small measure of camouflage, but ARES teams had been drilling in it for months. If someone out there was watching the exit, it wouldn't take long for them to spot her.

"And the ridge to the east?" Jacky checked on her HUD as Matt spoke to make sure Anna, Gold Four, was on her tail. "Is it a viable over watch position?"

"Standby." Jacky prowled to the edge of the canyon, Anna close behind, then ducked out, trusting the other trainee to watch for hostiles. She took the ridge's layout in with a glance, smiling. "Set of switchbacks to the top, Actual. Covered, quick access."

"No sign of hostiles north or east of us, Matt." Anna added. "Motion tracker shows all clear."

"Understood." The subtle shift in Matt's otherwise even tone made Jacky suspect he was anxious. She wondered if anyone else even noticed. Maybe Anna…but that was a whole different can of worms.

"Gold Team, move up." Matt spoke at last, hesitation gone as far as Jacky could discern. "Gold Two, post on the ridgeline. Gold Three, Gold Four, move left. Gold Five, on me up the middle."

Jacky moved left, nodding at Anna as she passed; the other trainee spun on her heels and wheeled to follow. They crackled across the shale, moving quickly – the sliding, shifting, clacking rock all but ruled out stealth. On point, Jacky kept her head on a swivel, alert for movement. The helmet feed from Matt's HUD showed him doing much the same. Mason's feed showed little besides rock, dirt, and the marksman clambering up over them. The rocks surrounding the switchbacks gave him cover, but that meant they'd have to wait for eyes on.

On Otto's feed, Jacky watched him and Matt slide around a large boulder obstructing their path and sightline forward. The area was filled dotted with the massive rocks – each at least fifteen meters high – and they played hell with the sightlines. She glanced right, and spotted the pair dashing north, weapons up and clearly ready. Jacky and Anna tentatively skidded to a stop, checking their rear and left flank, respectively. They did it silently, automatically; it was the same motions they'd been training, practicing, for eight years. It was all those years of drilling that made Jacky shift uncomfortably as she turned north and took her next step forward. In between the clatter of the shifting rock and her own quiet breathing, she heard something…distinct. Distinctly _not_ Gold Team.

The radio crackled. Jacky's eyes darted to the other helmet feeds. Adrenaline spiked and her grip tightened around her carbine. On screen, clear as day, and directly in front of Matt and Otto, were five ghostly figures clad in SPI armor, spaced evenly in a proper line, just like Laszlo had taught them.

"Contact front." Any other squad leader would have been yelling, caught in the open with an entire hostile squad a stone's throw away. Matt didn't even raise his voice. The entire contingent knew that when the pressure was on, Gold Actual went cold. Jacky liked to imagine it terrified more than a few of them. "Gold, engage. Three and four move left, two, get scope on target from the ridge."

The calm in Matt's voice in no way did justice to the scene of chaos unfolding in front of the team. Jacky's rifle snapped to her shoulder, up and ready for the moment a target presented itself. She pressed forward, Anna close behind, as the sharp metallic crackle of gunfire ripped through the rocky hillside. It quickly became apparent as the two of them moved forward just exactly what Matt's thinking was. A trio of boulders ahead formed a wide passage – two on their left, one larger on their right – and blocked their view of Matt, Otto, and the unfolding battle. If they moved quickly, they could rush through the makeshift path, drop on the enemy's flank, and be in perfect position.

The danger, of course, was the potential danger if their opponent predicted their move and hit them before they made it out. As always, Matt had the full range of potential issues covered.

"Hostiles dispersing, rifle pair moving left, grenadier pushing ridgeline." Through the short-range helmet feed, Jacky watched Matt and Otto sprayed fire on the move as they ran for cover closer to the ridge's base. "Gold Four, suppressive fire on northern approach, Gold Three advance and engage."

Jacky felt her hear thumping like cannon fire in her chest, the rush of the moment – the rapidity of the maneuvering – getting to her. She did her best to multitask, watching the end of the tunnel for the hostiles she knew were about to round the corner and keeping tabs on the rest of the team simultaneously. Matt and Otto had broken contact, both still alive and intact, but the enemy hadn't been hit, either. They'd managed to take cover, putting a boulder between them and the opposing force, but combat moved fast – and faster still when those involved were all SPARTAN trainees.

"Gold Two in position, targets obscured." As Mason's voice filled the comm channel, a figure slid around the corner of the passage in front of Jacky, blurred and ghostly; she pressed herself against the rock on her right, the curve of the boulder just barely shielding her from sight. "Pretty sure that grenadier's trying to scale the ridge and flank you, Actual."

"Copy. Gold Five, watch our six." As Matt spoke, Anna opened fire behind Jacky. The MA5B in the other trainee's hands was hardly the most accurate rifle, but it's deep magazine and tremendous rate of fire meant it could put an impressive amount of lead downrange. Jacky didn't stop her advance; she could trust Anna not to shoot her in the back. "Gold Actual to Gold Two, check the eastern flank of the center hostile position. Fire in the hole."

Jacky slowed for the briefest of moments, poised on the cusp of turning the corner. Gunfire erupted just ahead of her, the shooter hidden behind the curve of the bend; a rifleman, from the sound of it, returning fire on Anna. The shoot couldn't have been more than a meter and a half away from Jacky. At that distance, she would start with the element of surprise, but wouldn't retain it for long. HUD feeds showed Matt priming a grenade, Otto lying in wait, Mason carefully watching an empty patch of ground, and Anna slotting a magazine into her rifle. Even Jacky, good as she had always been with details, wasn't totally sure what Matt was planning. It'd been only seconds since they'd engaged; a counter plan was still far beyond her conceiving. That, of course, was why Matt had been chosen all those years ago to lead them. Anna let loose another long burst of fire, forcing the shooter back, and Jacky moved. That was her cue.

Exhaling explosively, she flashed her acknowledgement light once and charged around the corner, finger hovering on the trigger. Anna let off a short burst, aiming well high of the enemy; Jacky was grateful for the added distraction. The first target, the shooter who'd been trading fire with Anna, was caught wholly unprepared. The slim figure tried to spin and bring it's BR55 Battle Rifle to bear, but whoever they were, they simply weren't quick enough. Jacky feathered the trigger, unloading a burst directly into the other soldier's chest. Round after round hammered into her – Jacky was reasonably sure it was another woman – and she crumpled to the ground without firing another shot.

Jacky had been expecting something along these lines when she'd charged in. Matt had said rifleman and he wouldn't have told her to advance unless he knew she could handle it. She trusted his judgment on her abilities, more perhaps than she trusted her own. With Anna on cover fire, she'd expected one rifleman she could drop immediately, and another she could hit in the following close range confusion. Perhaps two, _maybe_ three trainees in the ARES contingent were faster than her. She had expected no serious competition from a rifleman saddled with a long gun. What she _hadn't_expected was to be staring down the barrel of a shotgun, in the hands of what was clearly enough close quarters specialist.

"Rifleman my ass, Matt." She growled.

Jacky charged forward, firing. With a downed enemy at her feet and no time to properly steady her aim, her spray of rounds did little to actually eliminate the target in front of her. The other specialist strafed sideways, darting clear of Anna's firing line, and started bringing his shotgun to bear. With nowhere to go but directly ahead, Jacky leapt forward and tackled the man before he could finish her with a cloud of buckshot.

The other soldier swore as she hit him, both of their primary weapons tumbling away. From the voice, she knew immediately who she was dealing with. Out of the entire training class, there was no team hated more than Scarlet, and Gold Team had an especially rocky history with the nasty group of trainees. Jacky had dueled with Michael-356, Scarlet's close quarters specialist, dozens – if not hundreds – of times over the past eight years. She was fairly certain she knew his moves better than he did; killing him was something she'd practiced too many times to count. It didn't hurt, of course, that Jacky could guess that the Battle Rifle-toting soldier she'd killed moments before was none other than Jennifer-347, Scarlet's leader.

The enemy team leaderless and weak, with Michael the only remaining obstacle in her way? Jacky didn't mind the odds of that scenario at all. She smashed an armored gauntlet into the third neck seal of Michael's armor – it's weakest point, she had long since noticed – and reached for the shotgun on her back. Michael wasn't quite ready to be done; he head-butted Jacky from below, forcing him off her, and started reaching for a weapon of his own. Jacky elected to let the momentum carry her instead of fighting it, rolling backwards and finishing her retrieval of her shotgun. She brought the weapon to her shoulder, but Michael made it to his feet before she could fire, hand on his M7 Submachine Gun. Still, even as he drew, he had to know he wasn't fast enough. His gun was still at his hip, and Jacky had him dead to rights.

She pulled the trigger, but as she did, thunder rolled through the ground and air. She had no warning, no clue to brace for the detonation; she stumbled forward, her shotgun discharging uselessly into the dirt. In the corner of her HUD, Mason's helmet cam feed showed an overview of the battlefield, cluing her in to what had gone wrong. The grenade hadn't been Scarlet's – it had been Matt's. From the footage, it was clear that Matt had tried – and succeeded – to flush out the two Scarlet soldiers plaguing him and Otto, intending to force them into Mason's firing line. Matt hadn't been intending to inconvenience her; he just simply hadn't been able to keep track of the entire battlefield on such short notice.

Intended or not, the detonation was making her life difficult. Jacky tried to transition from her stumble into a rough charging attack, but Michael read her weakness correctly and closed the distance, striking her while she was off balance. He kicked the shotgun clear out of her hands; Jacky swore, unarmed, and watched as Michael leveled his SMG on her. A pair of sharp cracks split the air – not Michael firing, but rather Mason dropping two members of Scarlet. At least something was going according to hastily-conceived-plan.

For all her doubts moments, the plan didn't fail the left half of Gold either. Just as Michael open fired, so did Anna; Jacky dove into the dirt, as gunfire buzzed over her head. Michael looked ready to track and hit her as she fell, but a round from Anna that caught him above the elbow quickly convinced him the real threat was the one still shooting at him. Jacky watched as Michael spun, shifting his fire and spraying an extended burst towards Anna, who had to duck backwards behind the rocks once again. She made it behind cover safely, and Jacky went to work using the time she had bought her.

Before Michael could turn to face her, Jacky was on him. She rose and darted in, dropping an elbow strike onto the joint of Michael's injured arm. He staggered backwards as she spun, kicking him hard in the knee, and squirmed in panic as she wrapped her arms roughly around his neck and shoulder. Before he could fire or squirm out of her grasp, Jacky shifted her hips in an underarm throw, slamming Michael onto the ground, back first. As Michael crashed into the dirt, she shot a hand out, snatched the submachine gun from his flailing hands, securing it before he even hit the shale. In one smooth motion, with a fluidity and crispness that almost surprised herself, Jacky brought the captured weapon up to her shoulder and emptied the magazine into Michael's wriggling form.

"Gold Three," Breathless, she dropped the empty SMG. "Two targets down, left flank clear."

"Took you long enough, three," Mason answered her, not Matt or Otto. "I got my two three and half seconds ago."

"Cut the chatter, Gold Team." Matt interjected without any hint of emotion. "One hostile at large. Any eyes on target, team?"

Jacky stooped to collect her shotgun and fallen MA5K, easing into cover behind the rocks at the end of the passageway she had just fought her way down. Slowly, deliberately, she slid around the corner, searching the landscape for a sign of the missing Scarlet soldier. The large boulder that Matt and Otto had taken cover behind obscured much of the ridge; she spotted nothing.

"Gold Two here," As Mason spoke, Jacky waved Anna up to her own position, getting ready to move up on the flank should the others need support. "Motion tracker is showing movement below and north of me on the ridge. Should I engage?"

"Negative, Gold Two." As Matt spoke, Jacky paused, sensing somehow this fight wasn't going to involve her. "Gold Five, cover eastern approach and prepare to engage. Target will present itself."

"Copy." There was a long silence, as Otto carefully watched the eastern side, sweeping the ridge. Jacky shifted from searching the ridge to watching their backs, confident that if Matt thought Otto had things covered, he did. A firefight was only slightly inconspicuous than firing up a signal flare; even as short as that one had been, every single trainee had to know where they were now. The vultures were undoubtedly already on their way.

"Status?" Matt asked at last.

"Stand by." Otto had always been a bit taciturn under pressure. "Engaging."

Two rapid-fire three round bursts echoed through the rocks, followed by a dull thump and, a moment after that, a muted detonation. The surviving Scarlet member had to be Arnold-351 – he had always been the one on that team to pack heavy weapons like the grenade launcher he was obviously now using. Jacky snuck a glance towards the ridgeline, her view still blocked, and briefly contemplated moving up. Then a lone, final burst split the silence, and the radio crackled again.

"Target down." Otto laughed, sounding relieved. "Never even figured out where I was hitting him from. To distracted looking for Two apparently. Grenade went off an easy thirty meters from me."

"Gold Actual to all points, we're clear." Matt wasted no time congratulating them on victory. "Gold Two, on point. I want us moving north, and I want a tactical assessment of the terrain. Gold Three, Gold Four, hold the rear flank and follow at a twenty five meter displacement. Leave Scarlet's supplies on their bodies and rig them with claymores. Eyes groundside, Gold Team."

Wordlessly, they moved out, smoothly transitioning into their new roles. Jacky and Anna split, moving to plant their booby traps on the "corpses" Scarlet had left behind. Laszlo had a made a point to tell them in advance that unless they were in need of serious medical attention, they would all be being left where they laid for the duration of the exercise after being "killed". A way of further treating things like reality, and an opportunity for Gold to potentially catch another team unawares. None of them had fired more than two magazines, leaving them comfortably set on supplies. Other team's might not have been so fortunate, and it was possible – albeit unlikely – Gold could get lucky and take out some of the opposition when they tried to scavenge Scarlet's plentiful remaining ordnance.

With the traps set and the rest of the team already moving out, Jacky waved Anna forward before settling into position behind her, at the end of their loosely spaced line. She breathed deeply, and turned to check their six every five paces, doing her best to slow her heartbeat. Her hands had an almost imperceptible shake as she held her carbine, but Jacky ignored it. She'd dealt with the after-effects of adrenaline plenty of times; she could deal with it now too. The helmet camera feed for Mason disappeared from her HUD, as he moved out of range; Jacky didn't fret the loss. She might have lost a first person, strategic view of the battlefield, but it wasn't crucial to her job. Matt still had the link, and that was what mattered. It was his job to make the decisions. Jacky's was simply to kill the targets he put in front of her.

_**TOP HONORS**_

_**0800 Hours, May 27th, 2548**_

_**Camp Icarus Wildlife Preserve, Tau Territory**_

_**Tantalus, Epsilon Eriandi System**_

Roger-341 did not now his last name. He knew that once upon a time, years ago, he had known it, but despite all his struggles to maintain his own identity, it had eventually faded into the background. He had been only six years old the last time anyone besides him had said it aloud; for the first few weeks of training, he hadn't bothered, but when he'd felt it slipping away, he had starting saying it every night. That nightly ritual, however, had not lasted. Before long, it had felt wrong; not because the he felt disloyal to the program or, God forbid, to humanity, but to his team.

He might have hated those that kidnapped and inducted him into training against his will, but that hatred did not extend to his team. His team were, as Laszlo had put it, his törzs. It was Swedish, or Scandinavian, or Hungarian, or some other odd language. Roger didn't care; the only thing about it that was important to him was the meaning. His törzs were his kin. His family. His team – they were his törzs. Two months into training, Roger and his team had tried to escape the caves they lived and trained in; while they were unsuccessful, it had cemented their bond and transformed them from a squad into törzs. Roger had stopped repeating his last name that night, and within a year or two, it had faded into the hazy, indistinct past.

It wasn't that Roger hadn't loved his past life – he had, very much. He'd had freedom, independence, agency; his life had been his own, and his path had been his own to choose. Such notions seemed a fevered dream these days. But much as he had loved his life, he hadn't loved his family; after all, he hadn't had any. His father had died in the war, his mother when he was five. But his team – _they_ were his family. To six year old Roger, it had felt like a monstrous betrayal, pretending to still be living his old life. Ignoring the sacrifices his new family made for him, spitting on the bond they had formed.

That had been almost eight years ago. Roger now wished he could remember. He had no doubts about the strength of his team's bond these days; eight years of training with them, spending every waking moment with them, had brought them closer together than brother and sister. But he nonetheless felt robbed. It was just one more strike against him, one more injustice done to him and his törzs. Their futures had been stolen, their identities had been taken, in the service of the "greater good". It did not sit well with Crimson Team. If they thought that they could have escaped – and survived the process – they would have in a heartbeat.

But they were realistic; even if they made it away from Tantalus, the galaxy beyond was an unforgiving place. The alien Covenant had been sweeping through UNSC space for nearly thirty years, killing everyone in their path, and every passing day seemed to bring the human race closer to total extinction. If the war was not won, they would not survive. It was that simple. And so, they submitted to training, submitted to the awful violation of their rights, and were even planning to submit to a dangerous and invasive set of surgeries and bio-chemical injections called augmentation. The upcoming procedure was designed to transform them into superhuman soldiers, ultimate killing machines: SPARTANs.

Their muscle mass would be doubled, and the fibers themselves would be more powerful. Their bones would be injected with chemicals that would increase the density, making them stronger than steel. Their eyesight and hearing would be improved, letting them pick out a needle drop in a sandstorm, or virtually see in the dark. Their reaction time itself would be altered, making them faster than any other humans alive. Augmentation, Crimson had learned, would make them nearly unstoppable, but it would come at a cost. The surgeries were even more dangerous than they were powerful. Roger's SPARTAN class was the third in the line of the near-mythical SPARTAN-II program, and the SPARTAN-II program had a painful history.

Two previous groups had gone through augmentation before them, and less than half had come out of the process unscathed. In the original Class of 2525, thirty candidates had been killed outright, and another dozen been crippled. The second class had fared no better. Worse, both of the first two classes had been carefully genetically screened for superior subjects, who would take better to augmentation. Roger had learned that only a few people in his class – him included – even came close to matching the same requirements. In the days to come, many would undoubtedly die, but the risks of abstaining from augmentation – running from the program – outweighed that of augmentation. The entire team had agreed on that, even those with the lowest matches.

Crimson wasn't supposed to know any of these details, of course. Officially, every single one of the Class Three teams was in the dark on the dangers about to befall them. But then again, Crimson knew a lot of things the other trainees didn't know. Roger and his squad didn't play by the project's rules, and never had. They liked the SPARTAN-II, Laszlo-108, who was training them, but few others in the program, and made no secret of it. What they _did_make secret was the fact that, five months prior, they had attacked the base's computer security systems, and copied every file they could find.

That was why they knew about augmentation and it's dangers, while the other teams remained blissfully unaware. It was why he knew that the genetic matches were so low, while the rest of the class remained in the dark. It was why he knew and myriad of other little details that the rest of the candidates didn't know; that there were dozens of SPARTAN-class commandos operating in secret, that Laszlo had once fought through a brothel on Gilgamesh, and that their units commanding officer, who they'd once hated, had embezzled thousands of dollars trying to acquire better training and equipment to help them. And it was probably why Roger had been distracted enough to lead his entire team right into an enemy ambush.

"Crimson Team," Roger growled with frustration, "Weapons free!"

The order was scarcely needed, really, but with any luck, it would give their assailants pause. Roger flattened himself to the earth, pulsing the trigger of the MA5B Assault Rifle held in front of his chest. The weapon barked, draining a quarter of it's sixty round magazine in the second it took him to land on the ground and settle into a hasty firing position. Recoil from the high caliber automatic weapon slammed hard against his shoulder, but Roger steadied the rifle with practiced ease. He'd been firing the weapon since he was six years old; the motion was almost as natural as breathing.

Roger had no idea if he'd hit the target or if the enemy had a bead on him, but he rolled just in case they still had a line of sight on him. Roger's Team had no sooner cleared the concealment of the treeline at their rear when they had come under fire. The biometric readout in the helmet of his Semi-Powered Infiltration armor showed Roger just how costly his mistake had been; in the corner of his HUD, Maggie-327's vital signs indicated that her pulse had flatlined.

Roger swore and fired another fifteen round burst, laying down a horizontal line of fire. A dilapidated, bombed out shell of an old farm building lay directly ahead of his team, the remnant of past skirmishes. Roger didn't fire at the building itself, however – he walked a line of rounds fifteen meters to the right of it, and was rewarded with a faint cry of pain. Roger smirked and chuckled, checking his HUD. His IFF tracker indicated James-319 and Jacob-303, his team's chief point men, were slipping along the newly weakened right flank. Roger could have brought up a live feed from their helmet mounted cameras, but he had other worries. That bit of proactive thinking, independently pressing the flank, had to be James' doing. Roger would have been angry, but it was exactly the move he would have ordered himself. Instead of speaking up, he growled deep in throat and popped to one knee, emptying his magazine to cover his teammates advance.

No reaction followed this time; the aggressors were likely bunkered down, now that one of them had been hit. Roger seethed with rage. These assholes should have known better than to fuck with his team. He reached behind him and withdrew a replacement magazine from the ammo pouch on his waist. Normally Roger would have slotted it in automatically, but he glanced down, for the briefest of moments, to confirm nothing was amiss.

Sitting at the top of the magazine, quadruple stacked, were a series of 7.62x40mm rounds. But, just as he expected, these were misshapen in a slight, almost imperceptible way. Roger slammed the magazine home without a second thought, content. The rounds inside were, like all the ammunition being exchanged, practice munitions; tactical training rounds, ballisticaly near-identical ammo with a proximity-fuse paint shell. They were designed to be fired exactly like a traditional round, and would explode ten centimeters from the target, spraying it with a brightly colored chemical solution that would induce numbness or even paralysis. The effect – sharp, extreme pain, followed by loss of sensation and dexterity – was as close the UNSC could come to simulating a real bullet's impact.

TTR was the standard issue stun round for all UNSC personnel undergoing training. As realistic and harrowing as this exercise was, that's exactly what it was: training. The SPARTAN-II Class III Top Honors program, Roger knew, had been patterned off a similar regimen undergone by members of the parallel SPARTAN-III Program: take a ten kilometer square area, and throw each squad into it with only two objectives. Eliminate the other teams…and survive their attempts to do the same.

Right now, Roger was more worried about the former than the latter.

"Mica, give me something on these assholes." Roger fired a short burst, still tracking James and Jacob on his HUD. "Location, strength, identity, anything."

"I know exactly jack shit," Mica-319's voice sounded through his helmet. "Sir."

Roger growled and fired another burst, only to duck and roll to his right as opposing fire scythed through the bushes next to him. He had to move, or he was going to be dead before he could rally his team. But the only good cover ahead was the farm house, and that wasn't going to be reachable. It was plain and simple, really; Crimson were in over their heads, and no matter of skill was going to salvage their bad positioning. They needed to move up.

"James, Jacob, do you have visual?" He tucked his head as suppressing shots whizzed overhead.

"Maybe." James was completely out of Roger's line of sight, but his IFF indicator lit up as he spoke. Roger made a mental note of his position. "Something real ugly looking maybe fifteen meters on our left. Might be one of these assholes shooting at us."

"Copy." Roger risked a quick peek up. The photo-reactive panels built into each suit of SPI provided a limited measure of invisibility, enough to fool the untrained eye or delay detection for a few crucial moments. Roger was betting on the assumption that their attackers hadn't zeroed his position too precisely. "Move up and hit them hard from the side. These dickheads want to mess with us, then we take them out."

Roger ducked his head down again as the rustle of bushes in the corner of his peripheral vision triggered alarm bells. A burst of fire cleaved the air just above him. He'd seen enough. The advance to the farmhouse itself would be dangerous, but if he made it that far, he'd have plenty of room to maneuver. He just had to get their first.

"Mica, you see that shooter?" Roger drew a stun grenade from his belt pouch and primed it in his hands.

"I see where he _was_." Mica sounded annoyed. "Any good shooter will have moved – "

"Then track where he went and keep his head down." Roger tossed the grenade, paused, and scowled. "Moving up."

James and Jacob were busy, and Mica already had a job to do. With Maggie down, there was no one to keep Roger covered. With any luck, he wouldn't need it, however. Roger sprang to his feet as the grenade rocked the ground, rifle up and firing the moment he was. Movement caught his eye and he drained a long burst in it's direction, trying not to break stride. He was halfway to the farm house front when his opponents opened fired in retaliation. A haphazard burst – likely fired on the move from a bad position – tore up the ground in front of him, then walked upward.

Roger was moving the moment the fire opened up, but he wasn't faster than a bullet. A pair of rounds hit hard against his plating, one in the side and one in the arm. The pain and force doubled him over, but he transitioned the fall into a roll and came up out of the shooter's line of sight. Angry and full of adrenaline, he hit the wall of the farmhouse and leapt through the nearest window, weapon out.

Just as he'd expected, the building was empty; it was just too obvious of a position for any team setting up an ambush to consider. Roger cleared the one room building quickly, sauntering up to a window and glancing at his HUD. James and Jacob were twenty five meters from his position, and with any luck, some of their adversaries were caught in the middle.

"I'm in the farm house, hit but not compromised." Roger checked his plates. They were dented and caved where the rounds had hit, and TTR covered the plating. Real SPI could survive a respectable amount of ballistic damage, and the training rounds were meant to reflect that. They were by no means invincible, but it would take more than a few glancing shots to drop one of them permanently. "Status report, now."

"Got at least one dickbag between us and you, boss." Jacob was winded on the other end of the line. "Plus an outhouse, utility shed, and some heavy machinery. Bit of a mouse trap."

"Getting some movement from your left flank." Mica paused and a shot rang out. "Slowing them, but they're still moving."

Roger vaulted out of the window, MA5B prepared. They had to move sooner, rather than later, else they be caught out of positon. "James and Jacob, push towards me. Put a round in that dickbag."

The back lot was overgrown with tall grass and the line of sight was hampered by crossrunning fences in addition to the obstacles Jacob had noted. Roger stacked against a tractor, then rolled under, emerging with rifle ready to fire up at any targets. None presented themselves. The IFF marker showed James sweeping along the field side while Jacob swung deep. Roger sprinted for the utility shed and tucked up against it, listening. In the background, two more loud shots rang out. In this terrain, Mica wasn't going to be able to hold four other SPARTANs in place for long, even with a sniper rifle.

"Jacob here, got movement." Roger noted his teammate's position as the point man spoke. "Dropping low towards you James."

"319 here, got it." James' beacon froze in place. "But I think we're – "

Gunfire – long extended bursts – broke the still air and Roger was moving before he even really realized it. There was too much of it – too long, too loud – to just be James finishing their opponent. Roger broke left, swearing as he spotted the flashes of muzzle flare through a fence and a stack of moldy wooden planks. On the biometric readouts in his HUD, Jacob flatlined. They'd been too slow.

"Crimson Team, fall back, fall back." Roger clenched his teeth and emptied half his magazine in the direction of the flashes, ducking below a fence and heading right along the side of the outhouse. James broke onto the comm just as another burst of gunfire cracked and drowned him out. Something man shaped and unfriendly looking appeared in front of Roger, and he finished his magazine putting a long burst in it's direction. The figure staggered, but ducked into cover and Roger lost his bead.

There was no time to pursue. Roger tossed a stun grenade ahead of him, then ducked right into a side passageway and emerged on a beeline for the trees. The grenade detonated with another deep rumble, but Roger doubted it had done anything but delay his target. Mica squeezed off another three pairs of shots in front of him, and the yelling that followed gave Roger hope he'd make the tree line alive. Fifteen meters passed and he slid into cover behind one of the trees, more or less intact.

In cover, he spun and slipped into a firing position, searching for a target. None presented itself, even as James broke from concealment and ran for the cover of the forest. Roger scowled, even as his teammate safely slid into cover ten meters to his right. There were at least two injured enemies on the other side of the field, but he had two men down. Their position was untenable.

"James, did you get the dickbag?" Roger kept the frustration out of his voice but let the cold anger remain. His team would know it wasn't directed at them.

"Affirmative boss." James had a warm air in his tone, but his brevity told Roger he was worried. "Confirmed down."

Roger leveled his gaze towards the farm house and scowled. That was one small bit of good news, but it wasn't enough. Even with the damage they had done, any sort of counter attack would be suicide with just the three of them. With a growl, he opened his TacMap and surveyed the surrounding area. They were closer to the center of the combat area than to the edges, and their engagement would soon attract the attention of the other team – if it hadn't already. As much as he would have loved to take the fight to the assholes who had dropped Maggie and Jacob, it wasn't going to happen.

"James, start pulling back." Roger spoke tersely as he withdrew a pair of stun grenades from his belt and began attaching trip wires to them. His ordnance belt was getting much to light for his liking, but they would need something to slow the other team down if they tried to pursue. "Mica, keep eyes on them and keep heads down until I'm done covering our tracks. I'll mark trap locations with a waypoint then we'll drop low and swing north."

It wasn't Roger's preferred solution to the problem, but it was the only option he had left. Even if these exercises were little more than a glorified game, he still wanted to win. And just like in the real world, the only way to really win was to survive.

* * *

><p>When he had been told the TTR sensors on the SPI armor issued to them for Top Honors would be modified to withstand an accurate amount of ballistic damage, Connor-338 hadn't worried too much. Unlike most of the team leaders within the Ares Contingent, Connor was a heavily specialized combatant – perhaps one of the most specialized in the entire group. It had taken mere months when training began for Connor to realize he had a particular gift with rifles, and years of practice had honed that gift into a talented mastery that put every other SPARTAN on base – including even Laszlo-108 himself – to shame.<p>

His weapon of choice, the SRS99-S2 AM Sniper Rifle, held four 14.5x114mm Fin-Stabilized Discarding Sabot rounds in it's magazine. Effective at upwards of two thousand yards, the full combat model was commonly used to put down _tanks_ before the emergence of the Covenant. Since that time, it's pinpoint accuracy and incredible stopping power had made it the go-to weapon for UNSC sharpshooters everywhere. SPI armor was durable, but it could hardly stand up to that sort of firepower. With the TTR modifications to the rounds and the trainees armor, the Sniper Rifle would fall well short of such power, but nonetheless, should have been able to take down a target with a single shot.

_Should have_ being the operative term.

Connor hit the ground with a thud and kicked desperately as Draco-304, the contingent's designated living tank, cannoned into him. Draco was big – and much, much stronger than Connor. The other trainee wrestled against him, trying to pin him in place, but he slipped a hand to his hip and clasped his sidearm. Draco slapped against him as Connor brought it up, knocking it from his hands, but that gave him the room he needed to maneuver. Connor headbutted Draco just above his armor's collar seal, then rolled clear and broke free of the scuffle.

Draco wasn't quick enough to follow. Now that they were untangled, it was clear the bigger SPARTAN wasn't feeling too hot. He staggered at Connor, throwing a high, badly telegraphed punch_._Connor ducked beneath the blow, rolling diagonally and slipping behind Draco. His sniper rifle – knocked away when Draco tackled him – lay at his feet. In the split second it took for Draco to turn, reach for his sidearm, and begin to raise it, Connor snatched the SRS99 and snapped it to his shoulder. He squeezed the trigger just as Draco raised his pistol. A crack echoed through the rubble, and Draco crumpled, faceplate covered in red paint and body paralyzed at his armor's command.

"And stay down." He muttered, climbing to his feet. He grabbed his pistol from the cracked pavement, and took off running.

Connor and his unit, Tan Team, had been hot on the trail of another squad for the better part of five hours. Lucy-329, one of Connor's teammates, had picked up the trail, and they'd been shadowing the other team ever since. They'd managed to get close enough two hours prior to confirm it was Jack-316's Olive Team, but they hadn't been able to get positioned in time to attack, and nearly lost the trail entirely. Only thanks to Lucy's skill had they even been able to follow, but they'd yet to get another shot at taking Olive down.

Lucy had been engrossed in the task of tracking Olive an hour earlier when Mellissa-332, Connor's de-facto second in command, had noticed something was wrong. Tan Team was no longer simply the hunters – they were also the hunted. Some other team had begun shadowing them, following, waiting for an ideal time to strike. Connor had continued their pursuit of Olive, keeping up appearances, waiting for a moment to eliminate their trail. Opportunity had come in the form of a sprawling old mining town-a jungle of instacrete pre-fabs and warehouses overrun by the woods and crumbling after a century and a half of abandonment.

Connor had ordered the rest of the team to move slow and head into town square, while he circled wide and took position atop a building on the town's nearest hill. All Tan had to do was make themselves look vulnerable enough that their shadow would risk an attack, then Connor could hit them from afar and catch them off guard. Even if an entire team pressed them, Connor felt confident his squad could hold them off long enough for him to thin the ranks. They were the best team in the whole contingent. Things should have been a walk in the park.

But as Laszlo had taught every single one of them, no plan survived contact with the enemy. Especially when the enemy were SPARTANs.

"Tan Two to Tan Lead!" Connor rounded a corner at a dead sprint as Mellissa's voice came over the unit com, strained. "We've been engaged! Hostiles front and flanking!"

"Tan Lead here," Connor cleared the corner and returned to his sprint in one smooth move. "Bunker down and watch your sides. I got jumped by Draco, but I'm on my way. Keep your heads on straight, guys."

"You got jumped by Draco?" Mellissa sounded pissed now. "Why didn't you just shoot him?"

"I did." Connor let a long pause hang in the air as he charged down two blocks. "Took more than one to drop him. Draco means Violet Team, which means Regulus will be trying his usual and looking to outmaneuver you. Eyes high and stop him, got it?"

The comm crackled like Mellissa was about to respond, then abruptly cut out. Nearby, gunfire echoed through the streets in long bursts. Violet had to know Draco was down, and they must have decided to press their attack before Connor got back. He swore, listening to the suppressive fire rattling through the streets. Violet Team's usual operating method was to let Draco-304 draw fire and soak up a little punishment while Regulus-302 scaled buildings and took advantage of any sort of unorthodox verticality to confuse. Even with Draco down, Regulus was probably up to his usual tricks. Melinda-323 and Anne-306 would be the ones laying down suppressive fire. And Kamala-354 would be waiting to take advantage of any chink in Tan Team's armor and open it with lethal force.

Most of the other teams in the division would likely be going down right about now. But Tan Team wasn't most teams.

Connor turned and ran straight at the tallest building he could find, a three story housing structure with a second story outdoor balcony. He kicked against the walls and tossed his rifle straight up, onto the balcony. With a grunt of exertion he kicked off the wall, reaching up and wrapping armored gauntlets along the base of the balcony. He lifted himself up, climbing towards the top bar and swinging himself over. He landed, scooped his sniper rifle from the ground, turned, and acquired his target a hearbeat later. He fired and didn't even stay to watch the target drop.

A hundred fifty meters away, Anne dropped to the pavement just as she broke from cover to advance, a florescent splotch of paint spread across her chest. Connor took three steps towards the third story and jumped, gripping the extended edge with one hand and pulling himself up one armed. He twisted a leg up, then rolled on to the top, never letting go of his rifle. Without hesitation, he rose to a crouch and fired again.

This time, it was Melinda who dropped, faceplate colored red. Connor paused for the first time in what felt like hours – even if it was minutes at best – and scanned the area below. He couldn't see his team-a good thing, paradoxically. Connor knew they wouldn't have gone down this quickly, and if he couldn't see them, it meant Regulus and Kamala probably couldn't either.

A pair of rounds cracked against the buildings wall half a meter below Connor and he hastily backed away from the edge, expecting a kill shot at any moment. It had to be Regulus firing; Kamala probably would have hit him. That, he decided, was good news and bad news. It was obviously good he hadn't gone down, but Kamala was dangerous. Connor would have preferred her focusing on him instead of his team.

"Tan Leader to Tan Team, status." Connor glanced around the roof, looking for anything that might help him. "Two more down, ankle-bait and the pyscho still at large."

"Copy, lead." Amber-373, one of Connor's squadmates, answered tersely. Two and Four got flashbanged. Could use a little help."

"Could use a little myself actually…" Connor found nothing useful on the roof and glanced down at his ammo belt. Ordnance was going to be vital later in the exercise and he didn't particularly like the idea of parting with any of it this early on, but he didn't see any immediate solution that didn't put his team in even more risk. "Ankle-bait has a bead on my position, and I can't get eyes on."

"You need eyes on is all?" Jackson-348 laughed, "I got that covered. Post office, thirty meters our right."

"You're in the mayor's building?" Connor visualized the town square, trying to piece together the layout from the scattered snapshots he'd accumulated between the hilltop and his current perch.

"Affirmative lead." Jackson's voice was calm. "Three's covering the front door and I've got our rear."

"Keeps your eyes open for the pyscho, then." Connor risked poking his head out long enough to check for signs of movement. Another shot splattered against the edge. "Don't forget two years ago. Kamala could hit from behind any moment."

"What about ankle-bait?" Amber asked. "We got a plan for him too?"

"You could say that…" Connor withdrew a grenade from his hip pouch, then positioned a spare magazine for his Sniper Rifle next to him. "Three? You're on point. Advance on Mr. Ankle-Bait and put him down hard, on my signal. '47 special. I'll keep him so busy he won't even notice you."

Connor paused and took a deep breath. Even if he knew, intellectually, that everything was simulated, it all still felt quite real. That was the point, after all. Some of the other trainees – hell, even some of the other team _leaders –_ might have relished the sense of danger, basked in the excitement, but Connor did not. The realness of the danger did not give him pause, but it didn't excite him either. What he was planning to do was going to be risky. A risk he was willing to take perhaps, to protect his team, but undeniably dangerous.

"Three." Connor exhaled explosively and tossed the grenade. "Execute."

In perfect, finely tuned control, Connor rose from his crouch and started running. The nearest building was a full story lower but at most five feet away; he fired his sniper rifle one handed towards the post office and leapt the gap, letting the empty magazine drop into the alleyway below. His other hand came up, smoothly inserting the fresh magazine, as the grenade sailed into the open in front of the office. Connor's eyes darted to the helmet-cam display of Amber's perspective displayed on his HUD, and he caught a flash of movement as Regulus ducked into cover inside his building, fully ready to weather the grenade's cloud of simulated shrapnel.

The same display bounced and shook as Amber sprinted into the street, taking advantage of Regulus's distraction. She leapt off the wide staircase and hugged the building, out of any line of sight the Violet Team leader might have. Connor hit the roof and rolled, coming up with sniper rifle primed and ready. A shadow flashed across the wall behind the window, but it disappeared as quick as it had come. Connor wasted no time waiting for an opportunity to present itself; he ran for the next nearest building and jumped into the gap, sliding down the wall in plain sight.

The absence of a shot in his side informed Connor quite nicely that Regulus must have still been bunkering down, waiting for the grenade to detonate. Amber, still in the street, was well within the blast radius now. She ignored that and kept up her pace, stalking towards the post office building quick and deliberately. Connor slid to five feet off the ground, then let himself drop, crouching as he landed to absorb the impact. He had seconds, at best, before Regulus realized he'd been played.

Seconds was hopefully all he needed. Connor ran into the street, legs pumping in a dead sprint towards a tree that had been planted at least a century before, as decoration. The monster had grown well beyond it's intended size, cracking the sidewalk, roots spilling over into street. At least seven seconds had elapsed since Connor had thrown the grenade, and Violet Team's leader was infamous for his fast-thinking. Regulus _had_ to know something wasn't right.

And know he did. Just as Connor reached the cover of the tree, a burst of gunfire filled the air and a burst of rounds whizzed through the air just next to him. Connor grunted and slid into cover, careful not to hit too hard. The photo-reactive panels that gave SPI it's trademark quasi-invisibility were delicate equipment. Any edge he had was going to be crucial in the next few moments.

Another burst pounded into the tree, shaking it. The thick old growth held up handily, and Connor leaned out and snapped a shot off, hoping to draw more attention. Amber was nearly at Regulus' building now, pacing forward slowly, deliberately, an M7 Submachine-Gun trained on the nearest window. The rate of Regulus' fire increased, nearly winging Connor as he ducked back into safety. The snapped shot hadn't given the Violet leader a single moment of pause.

"Amber, I've got him pretty well fixated." Connor glanced nervously at the sides of the tree. It was just barely wide enough to cover his entire body. "Do you have ingress ready?"

"Affirmative Lead," Amber gestured pointedly at a window on the building with her SMG. "But it's not fifteen feet from ankle-bait's position, and looks like an open hallway."

"Copy." Connor weighed his options. "Stand by for my go."

Connor tried to remember how many shots Regulus fired, but drew a blank. He hadn't thought to keep count, and he kicked himself for it. Regulus usually carried an MA5K Carbine, and it's thirty round magazine could be anywhere from freshly topped off to nearly empty. If he broke cover, he had no way to know how much ammo Regulus could put down range. But the alternative – staying put, letting Amber charge in and potentially get hurt…no, it wasn't even a question in Connor's mind.

"Three, go."

Without even waiting for Regulus to finish his current burst, Connor rolled away from the tree and came up sprinting. The suddenness of his out of the blue suicidal move probably saved his life; Regulus took a split second too long to pivot, and in that time, Connor spotted his window for himself. He snapped another shot off, knowing full well it would likely miss, without pausing in his run. The road ahead was nearly devoid of further cover, which made running next to useless.

Connor had two more rounds left in his magazine. He fired again, this time pinging the brickwork above Regulus. He might have been the best long range marksmen in the contingent, but at a run, with a sniper rifle? Connor was well aware he wasn't anywhere near that good. He dove for the ground, going prone behind a segment of sidewalk that had bulged upward from some unknown event. It covered maybe half of him, but the rubble surrounding it would hopefully blur his position, giving him a second or two longer than he would have otherwise managed.

It also gave him an excellent line of sight on Regulus, who had ducked below to reload – an action that probably had spared Connor a bullet in the side. As he came up, he came up firing. Connor pressed himself into the ground, hoping to make himself as small a target as possible. Regulus' fire was clearly hadn't been aimed with an actual target in mind, however, and Connor realized he had done his job _too_well. Regulus didn't see him, which meant he was that much likelier to regain his situational awareness and notice Amber moving up on him. She was right under the window now, moments from breaching. Connor held his breath, and did what he had to do.

While he could see Regulus relatively fine, his rifle was out of position for a precision shot. He had landed just wrong, and he prayed it wouldn't come back to bite him. His final round sailed a foot above Regulus and just to his right, splattering the wall behind him with red paint. Regulus flinched, but didn't drop into cover, didn't move a muscle. He had always been aggressive and bold, fearless. And quick thinker that he was, had definitely been counting Connor's shots.

The moment seemed to take far longer than physically possible. Connor stared, feeling the spent sniper rifle kick against his arms with recoil, watching Regulus stare back. As the other trainee leveled his rifle and steadied himself, sighting on Connor's position, his body language spoke volume. Regulus was at ease, confident. Behind the mirrored visor, Connor would have been unsurprised to see him smiling.

Then the burble of submachine gun fire crackled through the air, and the post office lit up with muzzle flare. Regulus stiffened as his chest plate instantly transformed into an ugly canvas of red splatters, the repeated impacts driving him backwards until he toppled to the ground, immobilized. Connor let go of a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding, and rose to his feet, too hyped on adrenaline to feel anything. From afar, he watched as Amber paced forward and delivered a coup de grace, putting a final burst dead center into Regulus' faceplate.

"Three to everybody, all clear in here." Amber sounded breathless and the tiniest bit worried. "You hit, lead?"

"Negative." Connor automatically changed magazines as he rose to his feet. "Everyone else clear?"

"Two here, feeling a little better." To Connor's surprise, Mellissa was the first to respond. "Four's coming around too. Everything's hazy, but we're not comatose."

"Five?" Connor jogged over to the general area where he'd thrown the unarmed grenade and found it after a moment of searching. He slid it back into it's pouch on his belt, a bit surprised the ploy had worked. "Any sign of the pyscho?"

Dead air was all that answered him. Connor keyed the comm again, a feeling of dread settling into the pit of his stomach, when Jackson finally came through.

"Lead, I'm hit – " Jackson's voice cut off with a hiss of static, but it bore the clear sounds of a man in pain. " – Took one in the leg and Kamala blew past me, I think she's heading for Mellissa and Lucy…"

Connor was already running as Jackson trailed off, sounding disoriented and exhausted. The training rounds weren't designed explicitly to cause pain, but Kamala had always been an expert at that. Even if Jackson wasn't permanently down, he could pass out at any moment. Connor just ran, pulse pounding, desperately trying to reach his friends. If Amber was behind him, he couldn't tell. There was no time to check, but she could handle herself. It was Mellissa and Lucy that needed him now.

"Lead, coming in!" Connor charged through the open door, rifle up, visualizing the layout in his mind. It was a small two story building, with only two entrances and limited office space above. No elevator, just an ancient staircase in the corner. He sprinted up it, fighting back the tiniest sliver of panic. "Mellissa! Lucy! Status report, now!"

No response came. Connor rounded the corner of the stairs, charging into the room. It was an open floor plan, but the sightlines were hampered with a dozen cubicles. A burst of fire rang out and he flattened against the nearest one, but a moment later realized it hadn't been directed at him. He rose to his feet, and ducked into the open. It was clear. He paced forward, listening intently for any sign of movement.

"Connor, this is Lucy." Connor almost jumped at the sound of his teammates voice, and chided himself for getting so tense. "Kamala's in here. We drove her back but I don't think she's hit…"

"Copy. Northwest corner?" Connor glanced down at his motion tracker as movement flickered along the edge of it's sensor range.

"Affirmative." Lucy dropped a waypoint on her location, and Connor altered course correspondingly. The room should have been well lit by the multitude of windows ringing it, but the ancient things were muddied with age. The sunlight came through hazily, casting long shadows across the vacant rooms.

Connor reached the end of a long hallway, and Lucy and Mellissa's IFF tags appeared at the edge of his radar. It was empty of any red dots, superficially indicating the absence of a nearby threat. Connor wasn't fooled and kept his rifle up and ready. SPI's motion tracking was notorious for missing to slow, deliberate movements; Kamala could be anywhere, stalking him.

Even as he felt his way through the building towards his friends, Connor couldn't help but wonder at what Kamala's game was. She had to know that she couldn't face Tan in a straight up fight. Connor knew his team was good; she might have wounded Jackson, but she'd taken him by surprise. The fact that Mellissa and Lucy were still standing made it clear to him that she was out of her depth with his squad. Granted, she was arguably the deadliest member of Violet Team, but even so – she had to know she was outmatched. Connor had a moment to wonder whether this whole attack had been a diversion – a feint, to get Tan more worried about surviving her than following her.

Then the gunfire began in earnest.

Connor swore under his breath and took off at a run, as his motion tracker exploded into a messy array of red and white. Something big and electrical crashed to the ground ahead of him, followed by another to his right. His tracker swam with phantom dots, white points obscuring any trace of Kamala's movement. He could hear Mellissa swearing up a storm, as he sprinted through the storm. Suppressive fire – whether from his friends or Kamala, he couldn't be sure – drowned out the particulars, but Connor got the gist of things. It seemed he'd underestimated the Psycho.

He was maybe ten meters from his teammates when Kamala finally pinged on the motion tracker. Connor's heart plummeted into his stomach; she'd somehow managed to sneak past Mellissa and Lucy and hit them from their rear flank, putting the two of them between Connor and herself. Connor twisted around a corner and took in the situation with one quick deliberate glance; Lucy crouched behind a desk and computer monitor, firing her submachine gun into the darkness beyond her, and Mesllisa, shotgun in hand, bounding from cover to cover, trying to push up.

Connor brought his sniper rifle up and activated the scope, trying to zero in on where Lucy was firing. Just as the integrated sight appeared on his HUD, a tell-tale clank echoed through the dusty halls. Connor dropped into a crouch and slid back behind the wall on instinct, before the sound had totally processed as a grenade. Kamala must have cooked it – something dangerous with the standard UNSC M9 HE-DP Frag, but well within her skill level – and it detonated mere moments after it landed, spraying "shrapnel" against the walls. Connor gritted his teeth against the concussive force of the ovepressure wave, then swung out from his cover, finger on the trigger.

Mellissa's advance had been halted, but both her and Lucy looked unharmed. They had reacted almost as quickly as Connor, sliding into cover as soon as Kamala's explosive landed. Connor swung his rifle towards the darkness and tensed on the trigger, but Mellissa rose from her crouch, now holding an MA37 Assault Rifle, and blocked his shot. Connor sidestepped, trying to clear his line, but Kamala had already moved. The Violet Team soldier darted right, firing an extended burst as she sprinted in and out of the cover offered by the cubicles. Connor realized with a cold feeling that her maneuver was designed specifically to get her out of his line of fire.

In front of him, Lucy and Mellissa scrambled to try and counter. Mellissa pushed forward, putting as much lead in the air as possible, trying to predict where Kamala would pop up next – without much success. Lucy meanwhile pulled back – firing more sparingly with her SMG, despite it's deeper magazine – and clearly just trying to get clear of the whole mess. Connor slipped sideways into a side passageway, turning right and emerging into a cramped, low cubicle. Kamala finished her flanking maneuver and pressed forward, just as Mellissa's magazine ran dry.

It was like watching a freighter collision in slow motion. As Mellissa dropped her magazine and scrambled to get into cover, Kamala emerged, SPI armor fully de-cloaked and olive drab armor clear to the world to see. Connor watched it develop as if time had slowed to a crawl, unable to raise his rifle in the tight quarters, unable to do anything but watch. Lucy's hasty retreat had dragged her out of position to cover Mellissa, and Violet's psycho had her dead to rights.

No, it wasn't going to happen. Connor raged inside, moving forward. He would not lose a squad mate to _Violet Team_, not in some damned training simulation. The floor ahead of him was essentially a large open space, devoid of any cover besides a few very permeable magazine stands with pages long rotted away. The moment he landed, he'd be in the open, easy pickings after Mellissa was down if he didn't save her. Connor didn't hesitate, didn't pause for a single moment. There was no time for doubt, only time to get it done. If he didn't hit his target, things would be over for him.

He vaulted the wall of the cubicle, left arm pushing off with every ounce of strength his adrenaline fueled muscles could offer. He lifted clear of the wall, sniper rifle swinging behind him, never once tearing his gaze from Mellissa and Kamala. His friend twisted as she leapt for cover, trying to minimize her profile, shock written all over her frame. She hadn't expected Kamala to come at them this fast, this aggressively. Kamala leaned forward, rifle swinging down and around, deadly intense. In her mirrored golden visor, Connor again caught sight of himself, swinging forward, part acrobat and part warrior.

He blinked.

His sniper rifle cleared the low wall, snapped up to his shoulder as his legs kicked into a crash, and he fired. In the quarter meter open space between the top of Mellissa's shoulder and the wall of the nearest cubicle, the big bore round cut through the air faster than the speed of sound. Kamala's head snapped violently back, her entire body crumpling unceremoniously to the ground. Connor blinked again, expecting something more – for his body to be shaking, for her to fire as she fell, for his feet to skid out from under him, for another team to come pouring through the door firing. Nothing came; he held a simple crouch, rested his rifle in his hand, and calmly exhaled.

Mellissa landed with a crash, scampering into cover. The frantic energy of her movement was a sharp contrast to the stillness that had settled over the rest of the room. Connor rose wearily, relaxing his tense muscles. Lucy emerged from cover scanning the room suspiciously, and Mellissa stopped squirming into cover and looked up. To her credit, the shock of glancing back and seeing Kamala's still form was well hidden. If Connor hadn't lived every day for the past eight years with her and the others, he was sure he would have missed it.

"Thanks for saying clear, Lead." Mellissa grumbled as she climbed to her feet.

"Everyone good?" Connor tried his best to set his tone to business. "Four, you ok?"

"Nothing but a few sore knees, Lead." Lucy rested her hand on his shoulder reassuringly, her tone much warmer than Mellissa's. "Thanks for the save, Connor."

"Three to lead." The moment broke as Amber came over the com line. "I'm with five, and he's not moving so well. You need to get down here, sir."

"Copy that." Connor checked his mission clock against when the engagement had started. It had been over fifteen minutes since Draco had first tackled him – they needed to get moving before another team decided to finish them off. There was no way their skirmish would have gone unnoticed. "Tan Team, marking a waypoint for rendezvous. Two, on point."

Working his way down the stairs, Connor ran through the engagement in his mind. Parts had been too close for comfort, but they'd all come out the other side alive, and that was ultimately what mattered. Connor was satisfied with his team's performance.

Even so, as Mellissa darted into the street and checked their route for threats, Connor reminded himself not to get complacent. Violet weren't slouches by any means, but they were hardly the biggest threat on the field. There were undoubtedly more difficult fights still to come.

* * *

><p>"Gold Actual to all points, hold position." Inside her SPI suit's sealed helmet, Jacky-359's radio crackled faintly. "Gold Two, status update."<p>

"No contacts, Actual." Jacky, on point, listened as Mason-317, her team's marksman and rearguard, spoke his piece. "Rear flank clear."

"Gold Three?" Matt-363, Gold Actual, and Jacky's squad leader, turned his attention to her.

"No contacts yet, sir." Jacky replied, scanning what she could see of the landscape before her. "But we're almost at the end of the canyon, Actual. Soon as we're in the open, things might be a whole different story."

For the briefest of moments, the radio channel went silent. Jacky knew Matt was mulling over their options, planning what to do next. Since they'd dropped into the exercise two hours prior, Matt had kept them moving – cautiously, but quickly. As they'd maneuvered, they'd kept their eyes open for any and every sign they could find of the other teams. Ten kilometers, on paper, sounded like a relatively large area; put ten squads of SPARTAN trainees into the same area however, and it compressed rapidly. Gold had noted at least three engagements so far, and done their best to maneuver themselves out of the line of fire. They'd wait to engage the enemy, at least for now.

As best they could tell, they weren't the only looking for strategic positions instead of rushing into the fray. A little under twenty minutes beforehand, Jacky had noticed clear signs of another squad – possibly even two – in their area and heading towards each other. When she'd alerted Matt, he'd contemplated looking for a spot where they might be able to engage the winner at an advantage, but decided against it. As best they could determine, the fighting so far had mostly been limited to the central areas of the arena. That meant other teams would undoubtedly be moving for the outskirts, looking for somewhere safe to regroup, and Gold had no intention of engaging some team only to get blindsided by a second force. Matt instead had opted to get them out of dodge, and let the others thin each other out.

"Move out Gold Three." Matt said at last, waving them forward. "Two, return to formation and establish proximity rearguard."

On point, Jacky moved up quickly but cautiously, her eyes locked front. When Gold had opted to maneuver out of the thick of things, they'd found their best option to be a long, steep, canyon trail. Matt's TacMap had informed them that the canyon was part of a high mesa that stretched out beyond the westward boundary of the arena, sweeping into the area again much farther north. The canyon itself was the remains of an old river gorge, water long dried out.

The walls, at least a hundred fifty meters high, would have been nearly impossible for another team to scale and gave them handy protection from flanking maneuvers. The obvious issue, of course, was their vulnerability in front and from behind. The skinny passage afforded little in the way of cover, outside of the winding twists and turns of it's walls; every time Gold rounded a corner, they were open to attack.

That was where Jacky came in, naturally. On point, well ahead of the rest of the team, she kept her eyes peeled for even the smallest sign that something was amiss, ready to spring into action. At least in theory, if they did make contact, Jacky could warn the team, rush the enemy, and draw attention long enough for the others to get into position to either support her attack or cover her retreat.

In theory, of course. Jacky had always been a very observant and precise individual, a skill she'd honed alongside her others during training. She watched everything, with a particular eye for little details – the shifts in eye movements and should position that could clue her into someone's emotional state, the intricate twists and rises of terrain that told the story of a position's tactical strengths and weaknesses. She'd realized immediately upon entering the canyon that given the topography, she'd be hard pressed to protect the team, even on point. She'd told Matt, but hadn't managed to sway him. It was their only truly viable route to move north, away from the fighting, unless they wanted to risk bumping into another team on open ground. Jacky accepted his decision without hesitation, electing to keep her eyes open extra wide. In Gold Team, they respected the chain of command; Matt was the squad leader, and his decision was final. All of them trusted him to make the right call.

"Gold Three to Gold Actual," Jacky keyed her comm as she neared the final bend in the canyon. She ducked her head out, taking in the bulk of the detail of the terrain beyond their narrow walls. The gorge ended startlingly sharply, feeding into a rock field. "Confirming eyes on post-canyon terrain. Dirt pack and shale, poor vegetation, large rocks, interrupted sightlines forty meters north, medium sized ridge on our eastern flank."

"Access to the ridge?" Matt asked, sounding like he was caught up in thought. "Cover for advancement?"

"Sufficient cover to move north, western routes vulnerable." Jacky slipped around the bend fully, MA5K Carbine at the ready. She was perhaps her most vulnerable now. SPI might have provided some small measure of camouflage, but ARES teams had been drilling in it for months. If someone out there was watching the exit, it wouldn't take long for them to spot her.

"And the ridge to the east?" Jacky checked on her HUD as Matt spoke to make sure Anna, Gold Four, was on her tail. "Is it a viable over watch position?"

"Standby." Jacky prowled to the edge of the canyon, Anna close behind, then ducked out, trusting the other trainee to watch for hostiles. She took the ridge's layout in with a glance, smiling. "Set of switchbacks to the top, Actual. Covered, quick access."

"No sign of hostiles north or east of us, Matt." Anna added. "Motion tracker shows all clear."

"Understood." The subtle shift in Matt's otherwise even tone made Jacky suspect he was anxious. She wondered if anyone else even noticed. Maybe Anna…but that was a whole different can of worms.

"Gold Team, move up." Matt spoke at last, hesitation gone as far as Jacky could discern. "Gold Two, post on the ridgeline. Gold Three, Gold Four, move left. Gold Five, on me up the middle."

Jacky moved left, nodding at Anna as she passed; the other trainee spun on her heels and wheeled to follow. They crackled across the shale, moving quickly – the sliding, shifting, clacking rock all but ruled out stealth. On point, Jacky kept her head on a swivel, alert for movement. The helmet feed from Matt's HUD showed him doing much the same. Mason's feed showed little besides rock, dirt, and the marksman clambering up over them. The rocks surrounding the switchbacks gave him cover, but that meant they'd have to wait for eyes on.

On Otto's feed, Jacky watched him and Matt slide around a large boulder obstructing their path and sightline forward. The area was filled dotted with the massive rocks – each at least fifteen meters high – and they played hell with the sightlines. She glanced right, and spotted the pair dashing north, weapons up and clearly ready. Jacky and Anna tentatively skidded to a stop, checking their rear and left flank, respectively. They did it silently, automatically; it was the same motions they'd been training, practicing, for eight years. It was all those years of drilling that made Jacky shift uncomfortably as she turned north and took her next step forward. In between the clatter of the shifting rock and her own quiet breathing, she heard something…distinct. Distinctly _not_ Gold Team.

The radio crackled. Jacky's eyes darted to the other helmet feeds. Adrenaline spiked and her grip tightened around her carbine. On screen, clear as day, and directly in front of Matt and Otto, were five ghostly figures clad in SPI armor, spaced evenly in a proper line, just like Laszlo had taught them.

"Contact front." Any other squad leader would have been yelling, caught in the open with an entire hostile squad a stone's throw away. Matt didn't even raise his voice. The entire contingent knew that when the pressure was on, Gold Actual went cold. Jacky liked to imagine it terrified more than a few of them. "Gold, engage. Three and four move left, two, get scope on target from the ridge."

The calm in Matt's voice in no way did justice to the scene of chaos unfolding in front of the team. Jacky's rifle snapped to her shoulder, up and ready for the moment a target presented itself. She pressed forward, Anna close behind, as the sharp metallic crackle of gunfire ripped through the rocky hillside. It quickly became apparent as the two of them moved forward just exactly what Matt's thinking was. A trio of boulders ahead formed a wide passage – two on their left, one larger on their right – and blocked their view of Matt, Otto, and the unfolding battle. If they moved quickly, they could rush through the makeshift path, drop on the enemy's flank, and be in perfect position.

The danger, of course, was the potential danger if their opponent predicted their move and hit them before they made it out. As always, Matt had the full range of potential issues covered.

"Hostiles dispersing, rifle pair moving left, grenadier pushing ridgeline." Through the short-range helmet feed, Jacky watched Matt and Otto sprayed fire on the move as they ran for cover closer to the ridge's base. "Gold Four, suppressive fire on northern approach, Gold Three advance and engage."

Jacky felt her hear thumping like cannon fire in her chest, the rush of the moment – the rapidity of the maneuvering – getting to her. She did her best to multitask, watching the end of the tunnel for the hostiles she knew were about to round the corner and keeping tabs on the rest of the team simultaneously. Matt and Otto had broken contact, both still alive and intact, but the enemy hadn't been hit, either. They'd managed to take cover, putting a boulder between them and the opposing force, but combat moved fast – and faster still when those involved were all SPARTAN trainees.

"Gold Two in position, targets obscured." As Mason's voice filled the comm channel, a figure slid around the corner of the passage in front of Jacky, blurred and ghostly; she pressed herself against the rock on her right, the curve of the boulder just barely shielding her from sight. "Pretty sure that grenadier's trying to scale the ridge and flank you, Actual."

"Copy. Gold Five, watch our six." As Matt spoke, Anna opened fire behind Jacky. The MA5B in the other trainee's hands was hardly the most accurate rifle, but it's deep magazine and tremendous rate of fire meant it could put an impressive amount of lead downrange. Jacky didn't stop her advance; she could trust Anna not to shoot her in the back. "Gold Actual to Gold Two, check the eastern flank of the center hostile position. Fire in the hole."

Jacky slowed for the briefest of moments, poised on the cusp of turning the corner. Gunfire erupted just ahead of her, the shooter hidden behind the curve of the bend; a rifleman, from the sound of it, returning fire on Anna. The shoot couldn't have been more than a meter and a half away from Jacky. At that distance, she would start with the element of surprise, but wouldn't retain it for long. HUD feeds showed Matt priming a grenade, Otto lying in wait, Mason carefully watching an empty patch of ground, and Anna slotting a magazine into her rifle. Even Jacky, good as she had always been with details, wasn't totally sure what Matt was planning. It'd been only seconds since they'd engaged; a counter plan was still far beyond her conceiving. That, of course, was why Matt had been chosen all those years ago to lead them. Anna let loose another long burst of fire, forcing the shooter back, and Jacky moved. That was her cue.

Exhaling explosively, she flashed her acknowledgement light once and charged around the corner, finger hovering on the trigger. Anna let off a short burst, aiming well high of the enemy; Jacky was grateful for the added distraction. The first target, the shooter who'd been trading fire with Anna, was caught wholly unprepared. The slim figure tried to spin and bring it's BR55 Battle Rifle to bear, but whoever they were, they simply weren't quick enough. Jacky feathered the trigger, unloading a burst directly into the other soldier's chest. Round after round hammered into her – Jacky was reasonably sure it was another woman – and she crumpled to the ground without firing another shot.

Jacky had been expecting something along these lines when she'd charged in. Matt had said rifleman and he wouldn't have told her to advance unless he knew she could handle it. She trusted his judgment on her abilities, more perhaps than she trusted her own. With Anna on cover fire, she'd expected one rifleman she could drop immediately, and another she could hit in the following close range confusion. Perhaps two, _maybe_ three trainees in the ARES contingent were faster than her. She had expected no serious competition from a rifleman saddled with a long gun. What she _hadn't _expected was to be staring down the barrel of a shotgun, in the hands of what was clearly enough a close quarters specialist.

"Rifleman my ass, Matt." She growled.

Jacky charged forward, firing. With a downed enemy at her feet and no time to properly steady her aim, her spray of rounds did little to actually eliminate the target in front of her. The other specialist strafed sideways, darting clear of Anna's firing line, and started bringing his shotgun to bear. With nowhere to go but directly ahead, Jacky leapt forward and tackled the man before he could finish her with a cloud of buckshot.

The other soldier swore as she hit him, both of their primary weapons tumbling away. From the voice, she knew immediately who she was dealing with. Out of the entire training class, there was no team hated more than Scarlet, and Gold Team had an especially rocky history with the nasty group of trainees. Jacky had dueled with Michael-356, Scarlet's close quarters specialist, dozens – if not hundreds – of times over the past eight years. She was fairly certain she knew his moves better than he did; killing him was something she'd practiced too many times to count. It didn't hurt, of course, that Jacky could guess that the Battle Rifle-toting soldier she'd killed moments before was none other than Jennifer-347, Scarlet's leader.

The enemy team leaderless and weak, with Michael the only remaining obstacle in her way? Jacky didn't mind the odds of that scenario at all. She smashed an armored gauntlet into the third neck seal of Michael's armor – it's weakest point, she had long since noticed – and reached for the shotgun on her back. Michael wasn't quite ready to be done; he head-butted Jacky from below, forcing him off her, and started reaching for a weapon of his own. Jacky elected to let the momentum carry her instead of fighting it, rolling backwards and finishing her retrieval of her shotgun. She brought the weapon to her shoulder, but Michael made it to his feet before she could fire, hand on his M7 Submachine Gun. Still, even as he drew, he had to know he wasn't fast enough. His gun was still at his hip, and Jacky had him dead to rights.

She pulled the trigger, but as she did, thunder rolled through the ground and air. She had no warning, no clue to brace for the detonation; she stumbled forward, her shotgun discharging uselessly into the dirt. In the corner of her HUD, Mason's helmet cam feed showed an overview of the battlefield, cluing her in to what had gone wrong. The grenade hadn't been Scarlet's – it had been Matt's. From the footage, it was clear that Matt had tried – and succeeded – to flush out the two Scarlet soldiers plaguing him and Otto, intending to force them into Mason's firing line. Matt hadn't been intending to inconvenience her; he just simply hadn't been able to keep track of the entire battlefield on such short notice.

Intended or not, the detonation was making her life difficult. Jacky tried to transition from her stumble into a rough charging attack, but Michael read her weakness correctly and closed the distance, striking her while she was off balance. He kicked the shotgun clear out of her hands; Jacky swore, unarmed, and watched as Michael leveled his SMG on her. A pair of sharp cracks split the air – not Michael firing, but rather Mason dropping two members of Scarlet. At least something was going according to hastily-conceived-plan.

For all her doubts moments, the plan didn't fail the left half of Gold either. Just as Michael open fired, so did Anna; Jacky dove into the dirt, as gunfire buzzed over her head. Michael looked ready to track and hit her as she fell, but a round from Anna that caught him above the elbow quickly convinced him the real threat was the one still shooting at him. Jacky watched as Michael spun, shifting his fire and spraying an extended burst towards Anna, who had to duck backwards behind the rocks once again. She made it behind cover safely, and Jacky went to work using the time she had bought her.

Before Michael could turn to face her, Jacky was on him. She rose and darted in, dropping an elbow strike onto the joint of Michael's injured arm. He staggered backwards as she spun, kicking him hard in the knee, and squirmed in panic as she wrapped her arms roughly around his neck and shoulder. Before he could fire or squirm out of her grasp, Jacky shifted her hips in an underarm throw, slamming Michael onto the ground, back first. As Michael crashed into the dirt, she shot a hand out, snatched the submachine gun from his flailing hands, securing it before he even hit the shale. In one smooth motion, with a fluidity and crispness that almost surprised herself, Jacky brought the captured weapon up to her shoulder and emptied the magazine into Michael's wriggling form.

"Gold Three," Breathless, she dropped the empty SMG. "Two targets down, left flank clear."

"Took you long enough, three," Mason answered her, not Matt or Otto. "I got my two three and half seconds ago."

"Cut the chatter, Gold Team." Matt interjected without any hint of emotion. "One hostile at large. Any eyes on target, team?"

Jacky stooped to collect her shotgun and fallen MA5K, easing into cover behind the rocks at the end of the passageway she had just fought her way down. Slowly, deliberately, she slid around the corner, searching the landscape for a sign of the missing Scarlet soldier. The large boulder that Matt and Otto had taken cover behind obscured much of the ridge; she spotted nothing.

"Gold Two here," As Mason spoke, Jacky waved Anna up to her own position, getting ready to move up on the flank should the others need support. "Motion tracker is showing movement below and north of me on the ridge. Should I engage?"

"Negative, Gold Two." As Matt spoke, Jacky paused, sensing somehow this fight wasn't going to involve her. "Gold Five, cover eastern approach and prepare to engage. Target will present itself."

"Copy." There was a long silence, as Otto carefully watched the eastern side, sweeping the ridge. Jacky shifted from searching the ridge to watching their backs, confident that if Matt thought Otto had things covered, he did. A firefight was only slightly inconspicuous than firing up a signal flare; even as short as that one had been, every single trainee had to know where they were now. The vultures were undoubtedly already on their way.

"Status?" Matt asked at last.

"Stand by." Otto had always been a bit taciturn under pressure. "Engaging."

Two rapid-fire three round bursts echoed through the rocks, followed by a dull thump and, a moment after that, a muted detonation. The surviving Scarlet member had to be Arnold-351 – he had always been the one on that team to pack heavy weapons like the grenade launcher he was obviously now using. Jacky snuck a glance towards the ridgeline, her view still blocked, and briefly contemplated moving up. Then a lone, final burst split the silence, and the radio crackled again.

"Target down." Otto laughed, sounding relieved. "Never even figured out where I was hitting him from. To distracted looking for Two apparently. Grenade went off an easy thirty meters from me."

"Gold Actual to all points, we're clear." Matt wasted no time congratulating them on victory. "Gold Two, on point. I want us moving north, and I want a tactical assessment of the terrain. Gold Three, Gold Four, hold the rear flank and follow at a twenty five meter displacement. Leave Scarlet's supplies on their bodies and rig them with claymores. Eyes groundside, Gold Team."

Wordlessly, they moved out, smoothly transitioning into their new roles. Jacky and Anna split, moving to plant their booby traps on the "corpses" Scarlet had left behind. Laszlo had a made a point to tell them in advance that unless they were in need of serious medical attention, they would all be being left where they laid for the duration of the exercise after being "killed". A way of further treating things like reality, and an opportunity for Gold to potentially catch another team unawares. None of them had fired more than two magazines, leaving them comfortably set on supplies. Other team's might not have been so fortunate, and it was possible – albeit unlikely – Gold could get lucky and take out some of the opposition when they tried to scavenge Scarlet's plentiful remaining ordnance.

With the traps set and the rest of the team already moving out, Jacky waved Anna forward before settling into position behind her, at the end of their loosely spaced line. She breathed deeply, and turned to check their six every five paces, doing her best to slow her heartbeat. Her hands had an almost imperceptible shake as she held her carbine, but Jacky ignored it. She'd dealt with the after-effects of adrenaline plenty of times; she could deal with it now too. The helmet camera feed for Mason disappeared from her HUD, as he moved out of range; Jacky didn't fret the loss. She might have lost a first person, strategic view of the battlefield, but it wasn't crucial to her job. Matt still had the link, and that was what mattered. It was his job to make the decisions. Jacky's was simply to kill the targets he put in front of her.

* * *

><p>AN: So, here is the first section of actual narrative writing. Stories like this are sprinkled throughout this anthology; other sections are responsible for giving the characters background and fleshing them out, whereas these are for seeing them in action.<p> 


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